much was in any case out of the question; possibly a book every
two or three years might not prove too great a strain upon his
delicate mental organism, but for him to attempt more than that
would certainly be fatal to the peculiar merit of his work. Of
this he was dimly conscious, and, on receiving his legacy, he put
aside for nearly twelve months the new novel he had begun. To
give his mind a rest he wrote several essays, much maturer than
those which had formerly failed to find acceptance, and two of
these appeared in magazines.

The money thus earned he spent--at a tailor's. His friend Carter
ventured to suggest this mode of outlay.

His third book sold for fifty pounds. It was a great improvement
on its predecessors, and the reviews were generally favourable.
For the story which followed, 'On Neutral Ground,' he received a
hundred pounds. On the strength of that he spent six months
travelling in the South of Europe.

He returned to London at mid-June, and on the second day after
his arrival befell an incident which was to control the rest of
his life. Busy with the pictures in the Grosvenor Gallery, he
heard himself addressed in a familiar voice, and on turning he
was aware of Mr Carter, resplendent in fashionable summer attire,
and accompanied by a young lady of some charms. Reardon had
formerly feared encounters of this kind, too conscious of the
defects of his attire; but at present there was no reason why he
should shirk social intercourse. He was passably dressed, and the
half-year of travel had benefited his appearance in no slight
degree. Carter presented him to the young lady, of whom the