repugnant to you, am I?" he said, as she shrank away.

"I don't know," she replied; "I am selling myself and you are buying me:
I hope I shall prove a good bargain. I don't want you to imagine for a
moment that I care for you; but I am selling myself, and it may be
best."

"You must drop all that kind of nonsense when once you are my wife," he
said. "As it is, I bear with it. We shall be married before Christmas.
We will take a flat in a fashionable part and see literary people. We
will start a new salon. Now good-bye; I will call again to-night. By the
way, how is the story getting on?"

"I don't know that I can quite finish it all to-day, but you shall have
it by the time I promised."

"Thank you, Florence. I believe you and I are acting wisely. I hope we
shall be kind to each other: we have a great deal in common. You could
not step up as high as I shall place you without my aid, and you are
useful to me: it is an admirable arrangement. Good-bye, dear."

She shrank so far away that he did not venture to repeat his cold
caress. He again looked at his watch.

"How late I shall be!" he said. "Anderson will be astonished. He will
forgive me, however, when I tell him that I am engaged to my rising
star. Good-bye, Florence."

"Thank God!" she muttered, when the door closed behind him. She had
scarcely time, however, for reflection before it was opened again, and
this time without knocking. Edith Franks, wearing her hat and coat and
buttoning on her gloves, entered briskly.

"I thought I heard Tom going downstairs. So he has been?" she enquired.

"Yes, Edith, he has been."

Edith came nearer and looked at Florence's face.

"So you are to be my sister-in-law," she said.

"Don't scold me, please, Edith."

"Good gracious, no dear; I gave you my word of warning last night. Now I
am all congratulations. You will make a nice little sister-in-law, and
we are proud of your ability. Go on and prosper. You have chosen
ambition. Some women would prefer love, but everyone to their taste. I'm
off. Good-bye, Florence. I see you would much rather not be kissed. Tom
has been doing that, doubtless. I will see you again this evening."

Edith went out of the room in her brisk way. She shut the door quickly.

Florence went straight to the window. She stood there for a minute or
two looking out. Then she dropped into a chair and, taking a sheet of
note-paper, began to write. She was writing to Bertha.

"MY DEAR BERTHA--