! It was only your abruptness that
made any kind of difficulty.'

'I have my own opinion on that point, and I shall beg leave to keep it.
Probably he will think me still more abrupt when I request, as I am now
going to do, an interview with his solicitors.'

'Is that allowable?' asked Maud, anxiously. 'Can you do that with any
decency?'

'If not, then I must do it with indecency. You will have the goodness
to remember that if I don't look after your interests, no one else will.
It's perhaps fortunate for you that I have a good deal of the man of
business about me. Dolomore thought I was a dreamy, literary fellow.
I don't say that he isn't entirely honest, but he shows something of a
disposition to play the autocrat, and I by no means intend to let
him. If you had a father, Dolomore would have to submit his affairs to
examination.

I stand to you in loco parentis, and I shall bate no jot of my rights.'

'But you can't say that his behaviour hasn't been perfectly
straightforward.'

'I don't wish to. I think, on the whole, he has behaved more honourably
than was to be expected of a man of his kind. But he must treat me with
respect. My position in the world is greatly superior to his. And, by
the gods! I will be treated respectfully! It wouldn't be amiss, Maud, if
you just gave him a hint to that effect.'

'All I have to say is, Jasper, don't do me an irreparable injury. You
might, without meaning it.'

'No fear whatever of it. I can behave as a gentleman, and I only expect
Dolomore to do the same.'

Their conversation lasted for a long time, and when he was again left
alone Jasper again fell into a mood of thoughtfulness.

By a late post on the following day he received this letter:

'DEAR MR MILVAIN,--I have received the proofs, and have just read them;
I hasten to thank you with all my heart. No suggestion of mine could
possibly improve this article; it seems to me perfect in taste, in
style, in matter. No one but you could have written this, for no one
else understood Edwin so well, or had given such thought to his work. If
he could but have known that such justice would be done to his memory!
But he died believing that already he was utterly forgotten, that his
books would never again be publicly spoken of. This was a cruel fate. I
have shed tears over what you have written, but they were not only tears
of bitterness; it cannot but be a consolation to me to think that, when
the magazine appears, so many