'Yes. But during the last twelve months you have given me a hundred pounds for my verses—three pounds for every poem, and there were thirty-three altogether in the volume—"Voices and Echoes," you know.'
The poet who had published these verses did not change colour or show any sign of emotion in the presence of the poet who had written them. He nodded his head. 'Yes,' he said, 'on a hundred and seventy pounds a year you can live—on seventy you would starve. Where is your brother?'
'He works in his bedroom. It is the room behind, on the same floor. My room is upstairs.'
'He requires, I suppose, good food, wine, and certain luxuries?'
'When we can afford them. Since you took my verses we have been able to buy things.'
'Your money is well expended. I should like to see your brother, Effie.'
'I will take you to him,' she said. But she hesitated and blushed. 'Oh! Mr. Feilding, Archie knows nothing about the—the volumes, you know! He sees only the verses in the paper. And he only knows that you have been so kind as to take them. Don't tell him anything else.'
'Your secret, Effie,' he replied generously, 'is safe with me. He shall not know it from my lips.'
She thanked him. Again, it was not until he was gone that Effie remembered that he could not possibly reveal that fact to her brother.
She led him into the room, at the back of which was her brother's study and bedroom as well.