ly_. She could twist me
round her little finger.')

'Oh, Mr. Knight, she recommenced at a tremendous rate, sitting up in the
great client's chair, 'you must let me tell you what I thought of _Love
in Babylon_! It's the sweetest thing! I read it right off, at one go,
without looking up! And the title! How _did_ you think of it? Oh! if I
could write, I would write a book like that. Old Spring Onions has
produced it awfully well, too, hasn't he? It's a boom, a positive,
unmistakable boom! Everyone's talking about you, Mr. Knight. Personally,
I tell everyone I meet to read your book.'

Henry mildly protested against this excess of enthusiasm.

'I must,' Miss Foster explained. 'I can't help it.'

Her admiration was the most precious thing on earth to him at that
moment. He had not imagined that he could enjoy anything so much as he
enjoyed her admiration.

'I'm going now, Mr. Knight,' Foxall sang out from the passage.

'Very well, Foxall,' Henry replied, as who should say: 'Foxall, I
benevolently permit you to go.'

They were alone together in the great suite of rooms.

'You know _Home and Beauty_, don't you?' Miss Foster demanded.

'_Home and Beauty?_'

'Oh, you don't! I thought perhaps you did. But then, of course, you're a
man. It's one of the new ladies' penny papers. I believe it's doing
rather well now. I write interviews for it. You see, Mr. Knight, I have
a great ambition to be a regular journalist, and in my spare time at Mr.
Snyder's, and in the evenings, I write--things. I'm getting quite a
little connection. What I want to obtain is a regular column in some
really good paper. It's rather awkward, me being engaged all day,
especially for interviews. However, I just thought if I ran away at six
I might catch you before you left. And so here I am. I don't know what
you think of me, Mr. Knight, worrying you and boring you like this with
my foolish chatter.... Ah! I see you don't want to be interviewed.'

'Yes, I do,' said Henry. 'That is, I shall be most happy to oblige you
in any way, I assure you. If you really think I'm sufficiently----'

'Why, of course you are, Mr. Knight,' she urged forcefully. 'But, like
most clever men, you're modest; you've no idea of it--of your success, I
mean. By the way, you'll excuse me, but I do trust you made a proper
bargain with Mr. Onions Winter.'

'I think so,' said Henry. 'You see, I'm in the law, and we understand
these things.'

'Exactly,' she agreed, but witho