evous expression.

The critic stared at his friend.

"Given it to you?" he repeated. "How did that happen?"

"I asked her for it, naturally. You were so severe on the poor child,
that I couldn't help putting in a cheering word. We talked of the whole
business, and she was willing I should see if my opinion agreed with
yours."

"_Your_ opinion!" echoed Gouger, testily. "What is that worth? But take
the stuff, if you want it, and when you are done, send it to her; it
will make less rubbish in this confounded hole. One thing I'll tell you,
though, in advance. You'll never be able to make sense of it, unless you
get some one to straighten it out."

"That's all right," replied the other. "After I have read it through, I
am going to Miss Fern's house, where she will read it to me."

Mr. Gouger started from his chair.

"You don't mean that!" he exclaimed.

"But I do. She asked me, and I'm going. I understand that it's a rather
bold tale, and I can conceive nothing more entertaining than to hear
that kind of thing from the red lips of such a pretty piece of flesh and
blood as has just left here."

There was an uneasy expression on the face of the critic as he heard
these words. He liked Weil, although they were as different in their
natures as two men could well be. He wanted to please him, but the
aspect of this affair was not agreeable.

"Look here, Archie," he said, earnestly, "there are some things that I
can't permit, you know. My office must not be made a starting-place for
one of your lawless adventures. You met Miss Fern here. Now, I protest
against your going to her house, pretending that you are interested in
that novel, when your real purpose is of a much more questionable kind."

Mr. Weil put on the air of one whose feelings are lacerated by an unjust
suspicion.

"My dear Lawrence--" he began.

"That's all right," growled the critic. "I may or may not be your 'dear
Lawrence,' but I know you like--like a book," he added, hitting by
accident on a very excusable simile. "You are an old dog that is not
likely to learn new tricks. I shall send this MSS. back to Miss Fern,
myself, enclosing a letter warning her to have nothing to do with you."

A laugh escaped the lips of Archie Weil at this proposition.

"If you knew the feminine mind half as well as you do modern
literature," he answered, "you would see how little that would avail. I
have met Miss Fern and made a distinctly favorable impression. Her
a