s on
subjects of topical interest, and one of my most precious possessions is
a collection of these which he himself put into an album.'"'

Mrs. Knight removed her spectacles and wiped her eyes.

'"'With regard to _Love in Babylon_, the idea came to me--I cannot
explain how. And I wrote it while I was recovering from a severe
illness----'"'

'I didn't say "severe,"' Henry interjected. 'She's got that wrong.'

'But it _was_ severe, dear,' said Aunt Annie, and once more continued:
'"'I should never have written it had it not been for the sympathy and
encouragement of my dear mother----'"'

At this point Mrs. Knight sobbed aloud, and waved her hand
deprecatingly.

'Nay, nay!' she managed to stammer at length. 'Read no more. I can't
stand it. I'll try to read it myself to-morrow morning while you're at
chapel and all's quiet.'

And she cried freely into her handkerchief.

Henry and Aunt Annie exchanged glances, and Henry retired to bed with
_Home and Beauty_ under his arm. And he read through the entire
interview twice, and knew by heart what he had said about his plans for
the future, and the state of modern fiction, and the tendency of authors
towards dyspepsia, and the question of realism in literature, and the
Stream of Trashy Novels Constantly Poured Forth by the Press. The whole
thing seemed to him at first rather dignified and effective. He
understood that Miss Foster was no common Fleet Street hack.

But what most impressed him, and coloured his dreams, was the final
sentence: 'As I left Mr. Knight, I could not dismiss the sensation that
I had been in the presence of a man who is morally certain, at no
distant date, to loom large in the history of English fiction.--FLOSSIE
BRIGHTEYE.'

A passing remark about his 'pretty suburban home' was the sauce to this
dish.

CHAPTER XIV

HER NAME WAS GERALDINE

A few mornings later, in his post, whose proportions grew daily nobler
and more imposing, Henry found a letter from Mark Snyder. 'I have been
detained in America by illness,' wrote Mark in his rapid, sprawling,
inexcusable hand, 'and am only just back. I wonder whether you have come
to any decision about the matter which we discussed when you called
here. I see you took my advice and went to Onions Winter. If you could
drop in to-morrow at noon or a little after, I have something to show
you which ought to interest you.' And then there was a postscript: 'My
congratulations on your extraordinary