in literary advice made a bow which did him no discredit, and
began to speak in a low, reverential tone not at all disagreeable to the
ear. His breeding, in truth, had been that of a gentleman, and it was
only of late years that he had fallen into the hungry region of New Grub
Street.

'How's the "Manual" going off?' Milvain inquired.

'Excellently! We have sold nearly six hundred.'

'My sister is one of your readers. I believe she has studied the book
with much conscientiousness.'

'Really? You have really read it, Miss Milvain?'

Dora assured him that she had, and his delight knew no bounds.

'It isn't all rubbish, by any means,' said Jasper, graciously. 'In the
chapter on writing for magazines, there are one or two very good hints.
What a pity you can't apply your own advice, Whelpdale!'

'Now that's horribly unkind of you!' protested the other. 'You might
have spared me this evening. But unfortunately it's quite true, Miss
Milvain. I point the way, but I haven't been able to travel it myself.
You mustn't think I have never succeeded in getting things published;
but I can't keep it up as a profession.

Your brother is the successful man. A marvellous facility! I envy him.
Few men at present writing have such talent.'

'Please don't make him more conceited than he naturally is,' interposed
Dora.

'What news of Biffen?' asked Jasper, presently.

'He says he shall finish "Mr Bailey, Grocer," in about a month. He read
me one of the later chapters the other night. It's really very fine;
most remarkable writing, it seems to me. It will be scandalous if he
can't get it published; it will, indeed.'

'I do hope he may!' said Dora, laughing. 'I have heard so much of "Mr
Bailey," that it will be a great disappointment if I am never to read
it.'

'I'm afraid it would give you very little pleasure,' Whelpdale replied,
hesitatingly. 'The matter is so very gross.'

'And the hero grocer!' shouted Jasper, mirthfully. 'Oh, but it's quite
decent; only rather depressing. The decently ignoble--or, the ignobly
decent? Which is Biffen's formula? I saw him a week ago, and he looked
hungrier than ever.'

'Ah, but poor Reardon! I passed him at King's Cross not long ago.

He didn't see me--walks with his eyes on the ground always--and I hadn't
the courage to stop him. He's the ghost of his old self He can't live
long.'

Dora and her brother exchanged a glance. It was a long time since Jasper
had spoken to his sisters abo