often--I mean even in latter years--has been much less?'

'I don't see how you could.'

'In one way, of course, I have managed it. My life is insured for five
hundred pounds. But that is no provision for possible disablement. If I
could no longer earn money with my pen, what would become of me?'

Marian could have made an encouraging reply, but did not venture to
utter her thoughts.

'Sit down,' said her father. 'You are not to work for a few days, and I
myself shall be none the worse for a morning's rest. Poor old Hinks!
I suppose we shall help him among us, somehow. Quarmby, of course, is
comparatively flourishing. Well, we have been companions for a quarter
of a century, we three. When I first met Quarmby I was a Grub Street
gazetteer, and I think he was even poorer than I. A life of toil! A life
of toil!'

'That it has been, indeed.'

'By-the-bye'--he threw an arm over the back of his chair--'what did
you think of our imaginary review, the thing we were talking about last
night?'

'There are so many periodicals,' replied Marian, doubtfully.

'So many? My dear child, if we live another ten years we shall see the
number trebled.'

'Is it desirable?'

'That there should be such growth of periodicals? Well, from one point
of view, no. No doubt they take up the time which some people would
give to solid literature. But, on the other hand, there's a far greater
number of people who would probably not read at all, but for the
temptations of these short and new articles; and they may be induced to
pass on to substantial works. Of course it all depends on the quality of
the periodical matter you offer. Now, magazines like'--he named two or
three of popular stamp--'might very well be dispensed with, unless one
regards them as an alternative to the talking of scandal or any other
vicious result of total idleness. But such a monthly as we projected
would be of distinct literary value. There can be no doubt that someone
or other will shortly establish it.'

'I am afraid,' said Marian, 'I haven't so much sympathy with literary
undertakings as you would like me to have.'

Money is a great fortifier of self-respect. Since she had become really
conscious of her position as the owner of five thousand pounds, Marian
spoke with a steadier voice, walked with firmer step; mentally she felt
herself altogether a less dependent being. She might have confessed this
lukewarmness towards literary enterprise in the anger which he