en it arrived, and bent with all the
enthusiasm that fruition gave his pen upon reviewing each line for the
hundredth time. He had enjoyed few things so well in his life as going
to bed tired with the intense consideration of a rhyme and falling
asleep in the ambition to reconsider it early next morning.

About ten days had passed since Guy sold the second lot of books, and
the poems were now as good as he could make them until print should
reveal numbers of fresh faults. He hoped that Worrall would hurry on
with the printing in order to allow him plenty of time for an even more
severe scrutiny; and he wrote to suggest April as the month of
publication, so anxious was he to have one specially bound copy to offer
Pauline on her birthday.

On the very morning when the manuscript had been wrapped up and was
ready to be sent off a disturbing letter arrived from Lampard, his
favorite Oxford bookseller, to say that, having made a purchase of books
two or three days ago, he had been surprised to find among them a large
number of volumes with Mr. Hazlewood's name inscribed on the fly-leaves,
for which Mr. Hazlewood had not yet paid him. He ventured to think it
was only by an oversight that Mr. Hazlewood had not paid his long
outstanding account before disposing of the books, and in short he was
anxious to know what Mr. Hazlewood intended to do about it. His bill,
L32 15_s_., was inclosed. Guy wrote back to say that it was indeed a
most unaccountable oversight on his part, but that he hoped, in order to
mark his sympathy with Mr. Lampard's point of view, to send him another
cheque very shortly, reminding the bookseller at the same time that he
had scarcely three weeks ago sent him L7 on account. Mr. Lampard, in his
reply, observed very plainly that Guy's letter was no reply at all and
threatened politely to make matters rather unpleasant if the bill were
not paid in full instantly. Guy tried once more a letter full of bland
promises, and received in response a letter from Mr. Lampard's
solicitor. The L30 intended for Mr. Worrall had to be sacrificed, and
even L2 15_s_. had to be taken from his current account. Savagely he
tore the paper from the manuscript, wrapped it up again, and despatched
it to another publisher. The bad luck of the Lampard business made him
only the more resolute not to invoke aid from his father or any one
else. He was a prey to a perverse determination to do everything
himself; but it was gloomy news tha