a puzzled way.

"Why do you speak in that tone?"

"Because it is so horrible and so false, Tom. Why do you publish it?"

"You agree with Mr. Anderson; he doesn't like it either."

"Don't send it to the printers like that. Poor Florence must be a little
mad. Cut out some of the passages. Give it to me, and I'll show you.
This one, for instance, and this."

Tom Franks took the paper from her.

"It goes in entire, or it does not go in at all," he said; "its
cleverness will carry the day. I must speak to Miss Aylmer. She must not
give vent to her true feelings; in future, she must put a check on
them."

"She must have a terrible mind," said Edith. "If I had known it, I don't
think I could have made her my friend."

"Oh, don't give her up now," said Tom; "poor girl, she is to be pitied."

"Of course she is; great talent like hers often means a tendency to
insanity. I must watch her; she is a curious and interesting study."

"She is monstrously clever," said Tom Franks; "I admire her very much."

Edith, feeling that she had done no good, left the office.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

A LETTER FROM HOME.

In due time the first number of the new weekly paper appeared, and
Florence's article was on the leading page. It created, as Tom Franks
knew it would, a good deal of criticism. It met with a shower of abuse
from one party, and warm notices, full of congratulation, from another.
It certainly increased the sale of the paper and made people look
eagerly forward to the next work of the rising star.

Florence, who would not glance at the paper once it had appeared, and
who did her utmost to forget Bertha's work, tried to believe that she
was happy. She had now really as much money as she needed to spend, and
was able to send her mother cheques.

Mrs. Aylmer was in the seventh heaven of bliss. As to Sukey, she was
perfectly sick of hearing of Miss Florence's talents and Miss Florence's
success. Mrs. Aylmer the less thought it high time to write a
congratulatory letter to her daughter.

"My dear Flo," she wrote, "you are the talk of the place. I
never knew anything like it. I am invaded by visitors. I am
leading quite a picnic life, hardly ever having a meal at home,
and with your cheques I am able to dress myself properly. Sukey
also enjoys the change. But why, my dear love, don't you send
copies of that wonderful magazine, and that extraordinary
review, to your loving mother? I