But
this time he was resolute not to undertake three volumes. The
advertisements informed him that numbers of authors were
abandoning that procrustean system; hopeless as he was, he might
as well try his chance with a book which could be written in a
few weeks. And why not a glaringly artificial story with a
sensational title? It could not be worse than what he had last
written.
So, without a word to Amy, he put aside his purely intellectual
work and began once more the search for a 'plot.' This was
towards the end of February. The proofs of 'Margaret Home' were
coming in day by day; Amy had offered to correct them, but after
all he preferred to keep his shame to himself as long as
possible, and with a hurried reading he dismissed sheet after
sheet. His imagination did not work the more happily for this
repugnant task; still, he hit at length upon a conception which
seemed absurd enough for the purpose before him. Whether he could
persevere with it even to the extent of one volume was very
doubtful. But it should not be said of him that he abandoned his
wife and child to penury without one effort of the kind that
Milvain and Amy herself had recommended.
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