'Then it will be too late. The critics will have expressed their opinion;
the work will be judged. There are only one or two points about which I am
doubtful. I wish Harding were here. I cannot work unless I have some one to
talk to about my work. I don't mean to say that I take advice; but the very
fact of reading an act to a sympathetic listener helps me. I wrote the
first act of _Divorce_ in that way. It was all wrong. I had some vague
ideas about how it might be mended. A friend came in; I told him my
difficulties; in telling them they vanished, and I wrote an entirely new
act that very night.'

'I'm sorry,' said Mrs. Bentley, 'that I am not Mr. Harding. It must be very
gratifying to one's feelings to be able to help to solve a literary
difficulty, particularly if one cannot write oneself.'

'But you can--I'm sure you can. I remember asking your advice once before;
it was excellent, and was of immense help to me. Are you sure it will not
bore you? I shall be so much obliged if you will.'

'Bore me! No, it won't bore me,' said Mrs. Bentley. 'I'm sure I feel very
much flattered.' The colour mounted to her cheek, a smile was on her lips;
but it went out at the sight of Emily's face.

'Then come up to my study. We shall have just time to get through the first
act before dinner.'

Mrs. Bentley hesitated; and, noticing her hesitation, Hubert looked
surprised. At that moment Emily said--

'May I not come too?'