afraid it hardly produces a living wage; and I've got to think of that." He coloured suddenly, as if suspecting that Miss Hicks might consider the avowal an opening for he hardly knew what ponderous offer of aid. The Hicks munificence was too uncalculating not to be occasionally oppressive. But looking at her again he saw that her eyes were full of tears.
"I thought it was your vocation," she said.
"So did I. But life comes along, and upsets things."
"Oh, I understand. There may be things—worth giving up all other things for."
"There are!" cried Nick with beaming emphasis.
He was conscious that Miss Hicks's eyes demanded of him even more than this sweeping affirmation.
"But your novel may fail," she said with her odd harshness.
"It may—it probably will," he agreed. "But if one stopped to consider such possibilities—"
"Don't you have to, with a wife?"
"Oh, my dear Coral—how old are you? Not twenty?" he questioned, laying a brotherly hand on hers.
She stared at him a moment, and sprang up clumsily from her chair. "I was never young . . . if that's what you mean. It's lucky, isn't it, that my parents gave me such a grand education?
