'
He had refrained from making inquiries, and Amy had forborne to
tell him the state of things, lest it should bring him to a dead
stop in his writing. But now they must needs discuss their
position.
'In three weeks I can get to the end,' said Reardon, with
unnatural calmness. 'Then I will go personally to the publishers,
and beg them to advance me something on the manuscript before
they have read it.'
'Couldn't you do that with the first two volumes?'
'No, I can't; indeed I can't. The other thing will be bad enough;
but to beg on an incomplete book, and such a book--I can't!'
There were drops on his forehead.
'They would help you if they knew,' said Amy in a low voice.
'Perhaps; I can't say. They can't help every poor devil. No; I
will sell some books. I can pick out fifty or sixty that I shan't
much miss.'
Amy knew what a wrench this would be. The imminence of distress
seemed to have softened her.
'Edwin, let me take those two volumes to the publishers, and ask
--'
'Heavens! no. That's impossible. Ten to one you will be told that
my work is of such doubtful value that they can't offer even a
guinea till the whole book has been considered.
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