publisher to whom he had sent his novel a year ago.

And now at last the letter had come, and he was seated in the office of
the great Mr. Pump himself. His heart beat rapidly. He felt suffocated.

"Well, Mr. Penquarto," said the smiling publisher, "I may say at once
that we like your novel. We should have written before, but we have only
just finished reading it. It is a little long--about two million eight
hundred thousand words, I reckon it--but I have a suggestion to make
which will meet that difficulty. I suggest that we publish it in half a
dozen volumes, stopping, for the first volume, at the Press notices of
(say) Peter's novel. We find that the public likes these continuous
books. About terms. We will send an agreement along to-morrow. Naturally,
as this is a first book, we can only pay a nominal sum on account of
royalties. Say ten thousand pounds. How will that suit you?"

With a heart still beating John left the office five minutes later and
bought a new belt. Then he went to a restaurant where Goldsmith had never
been and ordered a joint and two veg. Success had come!



IV


I should like to dwell upon the weeks which followed. I should like to
tell of John's emotion when he saw his first proofs and of the printer's
emotion when he saw what a mess John had made of them. I should like to
describe how my hero's heart beat during the anxious days of waiting; to
picture to you his pride at the arrival of his six free copies, and his