"Well," he exclaimed shortly, "we'll talk about this another time.
Perhaps I shall have more to tell you. Don't be gloomy. Look, here I
am just upon the end of my novel. If all goes smoothly I shall
finish it in a fortnight, and then I will read it to you."
"I hope you may have better luck with it than I had," said Julian.
"Oh, your time is yet to come. And it's very likely I shall be no
better off. There are things in the book which will scarcely
recommend it to the British parent. But it shall be published, if it
is at my own expense. If it comes to the worst, I shall sell my
mining shares to Woodstock."
"After all," said Julian, smiling, "you are a capitalist."
"Yes, and much good it does me."
Since that first evening Julian had refrained from speaking to his
wife about Ida, beyond casual remarks and questions which could
carry no significance. Harriet likewise had been silent. As far as
could be observed, however, she seemed to take a pleasure in Ida's
society, and, as Julian said, with apparently good result to
herself. She was more at home than formerly, and her health even
seemed to profit by the change. Still, there was something not
altogether natural in all this, and Julian could scarcely bring
himself to believe in the happy turn things seemed to be taking.
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