"Her position defines itself. I am to protect her from the man whose life I saved last night."
"Yes, I know, but after you have protected her—what then?"
"I am to present her with a certificate of freedom."
"But don't you suppose she'd rather have a partnership than freedom?"
"Not with me. I am something of a novelty to her as a protector, but I am afraid that to propose a closer relationship would make me appear commonplace enough."
"Well, you know your own business, and it's not worth while to give you advice; but you are a strange sort of a contradiction. As a general thing a fellow that's easy with man is severe with woman, but you are disposed to let them all get away. They don't get away from me, I'll give you a pointer on that. By the way, here's a package that I found here for you. Came by express, pre-paid, mind you. Think of that."
In Lyman's eyes there was the soft light of a sad victory as he opened the package and displayed a dozen copies of his novel, fresh from the publisher. He took a volume upon his knee, as if it were a child; he opened the leaves, carefully separating them as if tenderly parting curly hair. Warren snatched up a book with a cry of delight; he swore that its fame was assured; he knew that it would sell as fast as it came from the press; but Lyman sat in silence, his eyes growing sadder. It was so small a thing to have cost so many anxious days and nights. He had worked on it so intently that often when he had stepped out, the real world seemed unreal; and now it appeared so simple as to lie within the range of any man's ability. Here was a place where there had been a kink, and he had worried with it day after day, carrying the sentences about in his mind; and now at a glance he saw where the wording might have been improved. He was afraid that he had been too simple, too close to the soil; in seeking the natural he was almost sure that he had found the tiresome. He got up.
"Where are you going?" Warren asked.
"Oh, out somewhere, to get away from this poor hunch-back." He smiled sadly at the book.
"Hunch-back? Why, it's a giant. Look, here's a jolt like a wagon running over a root. It's all right. And I want to take one out to Nancy, and when she reflects that a friend of mine wrote it, her position will be defined. She can't help it. It makes no difference whether a woman can read or not, a book catches her. Ain't you going to send one to Miss Eva?"