d far harder. Messieurs and mesdames the critics are wont to point
out the weakness of second volumes; they are generally right, simply
because a story which would have made a tolerable book (the common run
of stories) refuses to fill three books. Reardon's story was in itself
weak, and this second volume had to consist almost entirely of laborious
padding. If he wrote three slips a day he did well.

And the money was melting, melting, despite Amy's efforts at economy.
She spent as little as she could; not a luxury came into their home;
articles of clothing all but indispensable were left unpurchased. But
to what purpose was all this? Impossible, now, that the book should be
finished and sold before the money had all run out.

At the end of November, Reardon said to his wife one morning:

'To-morrow I finish the second volume.'

'And in a week,' she replied, 'we shan't have a shilling left.'

He had refrained from making inquiries, and Amy had forborne to tell
him the state of things, lest it should bring him to a dead stop in his
writing. But now they must needs discuss their position.

'In three weeks I can get to the end,' said Reardon, with unnatural
calmness. 'Then I will go personally to the publishers, and beg them to
advance me something on the manuscript before they have read it.'

'Couldn't you do that with the first two volumes?'

'No, I can't; indeed I can't. The other thing will be bad enough; but to
beg on an incomplete book, and such a book--I can't!'

There were drops on his forehead.

'They would help you if they knew,' said Amy in a low voice.

'Perhaps; I can't say. They can't help every poor devil. No; I will sell
some books. I can pick out fifty or sixty that I shan't much miss.'

Amy knew what a wrench this would be. The imminence of distress seemed
to have softened her.

'Edwin, let me take those two volumes to the publishers, and ask--'

'Heavens! no. That's impossible. Ten to one you will be told that my
work is of such doubtful value that they can't offer even a guinea till
the whole book has been considered. I can't allow you to go, dearest.
This morning I'll choose some books that I can spare, and after dinner
I'll ask a man to come and look at them. Don't worry yourself; I can
finish in three weeks, I'm sure I can. If I can get you three or four
pounds you could make it do, couldn't you?'

'Yes.'

She averted her face as she spoke.

'You shall have that.' He still spoke ve