g of his own lost enthusiasm, had he been able to
work again. Then, in a glow of recovered energy, the book had been
begun. And all had gone well until the book's inspirer had begun to
usurp the place of the book itself. (Spence smiled as he realized that
Desire was painstakingly tracing the course of her self-caused
destruction.) How could he think of the book when he wanted only to
think of her? Insensibly, his gathered facts had begun to lose their
prime importance, his deductions had lost their sense of weight, all
that he had done seemed strangely insignificant--it was like looking at
something through the wrong end of a telescope. The great book was a
star which grew steadily smaller.

The proportion was wrong. He knew that. But at present he could do
nothing to readjust it. Two interests cannot occupy the same space at
the same time. The book interest had simply succumbed to an interest
older and more potent.

"In this chapter, the Sixth," Desire was saying, "you seem to lose some
of the serious purpose which is a prominent note in the opening
chapters. You begin to treat things casually. You almost allow yourself
to be humorous. Now is this supposed to be a humorous book, or is it
not?"

"Oh--not. Distinctly not."

"Well then, don't you see? If you had treated the thing in that
semi-humorous manner all through and continued in that vein you would
produce a certain definite type of book. The critics would probably
say--"

"I know, spare me!"

"They would say," sternly, "that 'Professor Spence has a light touch.'
That 'he has treated his subject in a popular manner.'" (The professor
groaned.) "But that isn't a patch upon what they will say if you mix up
your styles as you are doing at present."

"But--well, what do you advise?"

Desire sucked her pencil. (He had given up trying to cure her of this
poisonous habit.)

"I've thought about that. If you were not so--so temperamental, I would
say go back and begin again. But that is risky. It will be better to go
on, I think, trying to recapture the more serious style, until the
whole book it at least in some form. Then you will know exactly where
you are and what is necessary to harmonize the whole. You can then
rewrite the 'off' chapters, bringing them into line. This is a
recognized literary method, I believe."

"Is it? Good heavens!"

"I read it in a book."

"Then it must be literary. All right. I'm agreeable. But at present--"

"At present," firm