on the best pecuniary terms he could obtain, so in his
indecision he took the easier course of agreeing to everything.

'About the title now?' said Mr. Fladgate, when the terms had been
reduced to a formal memorandum. 'I don't think I quite like your
present one; too moonshiny, eh?'

Mark owned that it did sound a little moonshiny.

'I think, too, I rather think, there's something very like it out
already, and that may lead to unpleasantness, you know. Now, can you
suggest something else which will give a general idea of the nature of
the book?'

As Mark had absolutely no idea what the book was about, he could not.

'Well, Mr. Blackshaw suggested something like "Enchantment," or
"Witchery."'

'I don't care about either of those,' said Mark, who found this sort
of dissembling unexpectedly easy.

'No,' said Mr. Fladgate, 'No. I think you're right. Now, I had a
notion--I don't know what you will think of it--but I thought you
might call it "A Modern Merlin," eh?'

'"A Modern Merlin,"' repeated Mark thoughtfully.

'Yes, it's not _quite_ the right thing, perhaps, but it's taking, I
think, taking.'

Mark said it was taking.

'Of course _your_ hero is not exactly a magician, but it brings in the
"Vivien" part of the story, don't you see?' Of course Mark did not
see, but he thought it best to agree. 'Well,' continued Mr. Fladgate,
who was secretly rather proud of his title, 'how does it strike you
now? it seems to me as good a title as we are likely to hit upon.'

After all, Mark thought, what did it matter? it wasn't his book,
except in name. 'I think it's excellent,' he said, 'excellent; and, by
the way, Mr. Fladgate,' he added, 'I should like to change the _nom de
plume_: it's a whim of mine, perhaps, but there's another I've been
thinking lately I should like better.'

'By all means,' said the other, taking up a pencil to make the
necessary alteration on the manuscript, 'but why not use your real
name? I prophesy you'll be proud of that book some day; think over
it.'

'No,' said Mark, 'I don't wish my real name to appear just yet' (he
hardly knew why; perhaps a lingering sense of shame held him back from
this more open dishonesty). 'Will you strike out "Vincent Beauchamp,"
and put in "Cyril Ernstone," please?' For 'Cyril Ernstone' had been
the pseudonym which he had chosen long ago for himself, and he wished
to be able to use it now, since he must not use his own.

'Very well, then, we may consider that