, who approved it. Then she indicted one to
Martin and sent it by messenger to his rooms, although she knew him to
be still out of town. She wrote Jerry's name in his and put it on his
dressing table. She carried one to Bobs herself.

So much for her own immediate and tangible result from her long labours.
She had expected just such pleasure from it--but the surprising thing
was the intangible effect, which she had not counted on.

Dinner and tea invitations flooded in from all sides, her own days at
home became crushes. Everybody she knew talked about this book as if it
were the only book ever written. The critics, worn out after an arduous
season of more or less mediocrity, welcomed this new author because she
had freshness; she piqued their tired faculties.

The newspapers and magazines sent people to interview her; one of the
papers made much of her appearance in the Pageant of the Prophets--her
romance with Jerry. They ran a reproduction of one of his portraits, not
being able to get a photograph of Jane.

"I get a little ad. out of this, Jane," Jerry said, as he handed her
that account.

"I don't like the publicity part," she sighed, and added as she read,
"Oh, this is ridiculous, I won't have it."

"My dear, you'll find that advertising is the most important thing in
art these days. This kind of thing is nuts and ale to your publishers."

"But, Jerry, how can it be? All this silly, untrue stuff about my
private life."

"That's what they want. The D. P. care much more for your private life
than it does for your work. The more they know--or think they
know--about it, the more willing they are to buy what you have to sell."

"It's disgusting; it debases art."

"So it does; it also popularizes it."

"I suppose that is what we want, isn't it--a democratic art?"

"Yes, if artists are to live. But it has to be spoon fed, with a rich
sauce of personality to get it down their throats," he grumbled.

"But my book isn't the popular kind--only a few people are going to read
it--so why do I have to go through this cheap advertising? It will
disgust the people who might read me, and the people it might attract
will never read me."

"Don't expect the advertiser to have any judgment, Jane. All kinds of
soap and all kinds of books are alike to him."

"Dear me, it is discouraging."

Mrs. Abercrombie Brendon insisted upon giving a dinner for Jane, with
fashionable and literary folk asked to meet her. She found he