At six I was again in
the dirty eating-house, satisfying a ferocious hunger. Home once
more at 6.45, and for two hours wrote steadily at a long affair I
have in hand for The Current. Then I came here, thinking hard all
the way. What say you to this? Have I earned a night's repose?'
'And what's the value of it all?' asked Maud.
'Probably from ten to twelve guineas, if I calculated.'
'I meant, what was the literary value of it?' said his sister,
with a smile.
'Equal to that of the contents of a mouldy nut.'
'Pretty much what I thought.'
'Oh, but it answers the purpose,' urged Dora, 'and it does no one
any harm.'
'Honest journey-work!' cried Jasper. 'There are few men in London
capable of such a feat. Many a fellow could write more in
quantity, but they couldn't command my market. It's rubbish, but
rubbish of a very special kind, of fine quality.'
Marian had not yet spoken, save a word or two in reply to
Jasper's greeting; now and then she just glanced at him, but for
the most part her eyes were cast down. Now Jasper addressed her.
'A year ago, Miss Yule, I shouldn't have believed myself capable
of such activity.
Pages:
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339