.
Why, even if you were an American you couldn't live by poetry. Now
please let me finish. My common sense no doubt strikes you as brutal,
but if, when it is your turn to speak, you can produce the shadow of a
probability that you will ever earn your own living, I shall be only too
willing to be convinced. I am not so much enamoured of my schoolmaster's
life as to wish to bind you down to that; but between being a
schoolmaster and being what the world would call an idle young poseur
lies a big gulf. Why did not you stick to your Macedonian idea? Surely
that was romantic enough to please even you. No, the whole manner of
your present life spells self-indulgence, and I warn you it will
inevitably bring in its train the results of self-indulgence. My dear
Guy, _do_ something. Don't stay here talking of what you are going to
do. Say good-by for the present to Pauline and do something. If she is
fond of you she will be prouder of you when she sees that you are
determined to fight to win her. My boy, I speak to you very seriously,
and I warn you that this is the last protest I shall make. You are
behaving wrongly; her parents are behaving wrongly. If you must write,
get some regular work. Why not try for the staff of some reputable paper
like _The Spectator_?"

"Good heavens!" Guy ejaculated.

"Well, there may be other reputable papers, though I confess _The
Spectator_ is my favorite."

"Yes, I know. It probably would be."

"It's this terrible inaction," his father went on. "I don't know how you
can tolerate the ignominious position in which you find yourself. To me
it would be unendurable."

Mr. Hazlewood sighed with the satisfaction of unburdening himself, and
waited for his son to reply, who with a tremendous effort not to spoil
the force of his argument by losing his temper began calmly enough:

"I have never contended that I should earn my living by poetry. What I
have hoped is that when my first book appears it would be sufficiently
remarkable to restore your confidence in me."

"In other words," his father interrupted, "to tempt me to support
you--or rather, as it now turns out, to help you to get married."

"Well, why not?" said Guy. "I'm your only son. You can spare the money.
Why shouldn't you help me? I'm not asking you to do anything before I've
justified myself. I'm only asking you to wait a year. If my book is a
failure, it will be I who pay the penalty, not you. My confidence will
be severely damaged,