voted herself to a serious course
of studies, that the care of house and child occupied all the time she
could spare from her intellectual pursuits. The worst of it was, she
had little faith in the efficacy of these fictions; in uttering them she
felt an unpleasant warmth upon her cheeks, and it was not difficult to
detect a look of doubt in the eyes of the listener. She grew angry
with herself for being dishonest, and with her husband for making such
dishonesty needful.

The female friend with whom she had most trouble was Mrs Carter. You
remember that on the occasion of Reardon's first meeting with his future
wife, at the Grosvenor Gallery, there were present his friend Carter
and a young lady who was shortly to bear the name of that spirited
young man. The Carters had now been married about a year; they lived
in Bayswater, and saw much of a certain world which imitates on a lower
plane the amusements and affectations of society proper. Mr Carter was
still secretary to the hospital where Reardon had once earned his twenty
shillings a week, but by voyaging in the seas of charitable enterprise
he had come upon supplementary sources of income; for instance, he held
the post of secretary to the Barclay Trust, a charity whose moderate
funds were largely devoted to the support of gentlemen engaged in
administering it. This young man, with his air of pleasing vivacity, had
early ingratiated himself with the kind of people who were likely to be
of use to him; he had his reward in the shape of offices which are only
procured through private influence. His wife was a good-natured, lively,
and rather clever girl; she had a genuine regard for Amy, and much
respect for Reardon. Her ambition was to form a circle of distinctly
intellectual acquaintances, and she was constantly inviting the Reardons
to her house; a real live novelist is not easily drawn into the world
where Mrs Carter had her being, and it annoyed her that all attempts to
secure Amy and her husband for five-o'clock teas and small parties had
of late failed.

On the afternoon when Reardon had visited a second-hand bookseller with
a view of raising money--he was again shut up in his study, dolorously
at work--Amy was disturbed by the sound of a visitor's rat-tat; the
little servant went to the door, and returned followed by Mrs Carter.

Under the best of circumstances it was awkward to receive any but
intimate friends during the hours when Reardon sat at his desk. Th