his own. Talk was mere vanity and vexation of spirit, for the
spring of his volition seemed to be broken, and, whatever resolve
he might utter, he knew that everything depended on influences he
could not even foresee.


CHAPTER VII. MARIAN'S HOME

Three weeks after her return from the country--which took place a
week later than that of Jasper Milvain--Marian Yule was working
one afternoon at her usual place in the Museum Reading-room. It
was three o'clock, and with the interval of half an hour at
midday, when she went away for a cup of tea and a sandwich, she
had been closely occupied since half-past nine. Her task at
present was to collect materials for a paper on 'French
Authoresses of the Seventeenth Century,' the kind of thing which
her father supplied on stipulated terms for anonymous
publication. Marian was by this time almost able to complete such
a piece of manufacture herself and her father's share in it was
limited to a few hints and corrections. The greater part of the
work by which Yule earned his moderate income was anonymous:
volumes and articles which bore his signature dealt with much the
same subjects as his unsigned matter, but the writing was
laboured with a conscientiousness unusual in men of his position.
The result, unhappily, was not correspondent with the efforts.
Alfred Yule had made a recognisable name among the critical
writers of the day; seeing him in the title-lists of a
periodical, most people knew what to expect, but not a few
forbore the cutting open of the pages he occupied. He was
learned, copious, occasionally mordant in style; but grace had