'
'If only you were able to write short stories, Fadge might be
useful.'
'But what's the use? I suppose I might get ten guineas, at most,
for such a story. I need a couple of hundred pounds at least.
Even if I could finish a three-volume book, I doubt if they would
give me a hundred again, after the failure of "The Optimist"; no,
they wouldn't.'
'But to sit and look forward in this way is absolutely fatal, my
dear fellow. Get to work at your two-volume story. Call it "The
Weird Sisters," or anything better that you can devise; but get
it done, so many pages a day. If I go ahead as I begin to think I
shall, I shall soon be able to assure you good notices in a lot
of papers. Your misfortune has been that you had no influential
friends. By-the-bye, how has The Study been in the habit of
treating you?'
'Scrubbily.'
'I'll make an opportunity of talking about your books to Fadge. I
think Fadge and I shall get on pretty well together. Alfred Yule
hates the man fiercely, for some reason or other. By the way, I
may as well tell you that I broke short off with the Yules on
purpose.
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