"I shall send it to Cousins," went on Humphrey hastily; "and I want two hundred and fifty this time."
"They won't give it you."
"Why not?"
"Partly because you'll accept less. And you haven't gone into a second edition, remember." "Look at the reviews!"
"Cousins's will look at the sale. The thing will have to be precious good for you to get as much as that!"
"It will be precious good," said Kent seriously. "I'm doing all I know! You shall wade right through it when it's finished, if you will, and tell me your honest opinion. I won't say it's going to 'live' or any rot like that; but it's the best work it is in me to do, and it will be an advance on the other, that I'll swear."
"Mrs. St. Julian's last goes into a fourth edition next week," observed Turquand grimly, "if that's any encouragement to you."
"Good Lord," said Kent, "it only came out in January! Is that a fact?"
"One of 'Life's Little Ironies'! Hers is the kind of stuff to sell, my boy! The largest public don't want nature and style; they want an improbable story and virtue rewarded. The poor 'companion' rambles in the moonlight and a becoming dress, and has love passages in the grounds at midnight—which wouldn't be respectable, only she's so innocent. The heiress sighs for a title and an establishment in Park Lane; I and the poor 'companion' says, 'Give me a cottage, with the man I love,' making eyes at the biggest catch in the room, no doubt, though the writer doesn't tell you that—and hooks him. Blessed is the 'companion' whose situation is in a story by Mrs. St. Julian, for she shall be called the wife of the lord. Sonny, the first mission of a novel is to be a pecuniary success—you are an ass! Excuse me, Mrs. Kent."
"You may give him all the good advice you can. I've said before that I like Mrs. St. Julian's stories, but Humphrey has made up his mind not to. That's firmness, I suppose, as he is a man!" She laughed.