“It is some time since you were home?”
“Yes.”
“I had a note from Mrs. Jocelyn a few days ago.”
“Did you?”
“I wonder if you would let me see your ‘Songs of the Street,’ she told me about?”
“She spoke of them to you?”
“In the highest terms. Said she had no idea of your plans in regard to them, but that the poems were strong and true.”
“I am glad she liked them.”
“Would you consider letting me have them for the magazine if they seemed to fit our needs?”
“You can look them over, if you like. They won’t fit, though. They’ll stick out like a sore thumb. The only editor I showed them to said they weren’t prose, and they weren’t poetry, and, besides, he didn’t like them.”
“Mail them to me to-night when you go home. Better still, bring them in.”
Jarvis drew out an envelope that he pushed across the table to Strong.
“Look them over now,” he said.
Strong lifted his brows slightly, but took the proffered pages and began to read. While his host was
