“For some time,” he remarked, “I have meditated the writing of a book, and possibly yours will serve my purpose.”
I was so taken by surprise that for a moment I merely gazed at him, since it seemed impossible that even egotism so overwhelming as his could be capable of such blindness; but he was in earnest, and I could only revert to Mr. Blodgett’s idea that a business man comes to think in time that anything he can buy is his. I smiled, and answered, “My book is not petroleum, Mr. Whitely.”
“If it is what I desire, I will amply remunerate you,” he offered.
“It is not for sale.”
“I presume,” he replied, “that you know what disposition of your book suits you best. I have, however, noticed in you a strong desire to obtain money, and I feel sure that we could arrange terms that will bring you more than you would otherwise receive.”
Even before Mr. Whitely finished speaking, I realized that I was not a free agent. I owed a debt, and till it was paid I had no right to think of my own ambition or feelings. I caught my breath in anguish at the thought, and then, fearing that my courage would fail me, I spoke hastily: “What do you offer me?”
He smiled blandly as he predicted: “It is hardly a work that will have a large sale. The Turkish nation has not played an important part in history.”
“Only conquered the key of the Old World, caused the Crusades, forced the discovery of America and of the Cape passage, compelled Europe to develop its own civilization instead of adopting that of the East, and furnished a question to modern statesmen that they have yet found no Œdipus to answer,” I retorted.
“Your special pleading does tend to magnify their position,” he assented. “I shall be happy to look the work over, leaving the terms to be decided later.”
I am ashamed to confess what a night of suffering I went through, battling with the love and pride that had grown into my heart for my book. I knew from the first moment his proposition had been suggested that he would give me more than I could ever hope to make from the work, and therefore my course was only too plain; but I had a terrible struggle to force myself to carry my manuscript to him the following afternoon.