The book is in her own
room; I suppose she reads it over every night, before going to bed. And
really, after so much praise, it is extraordinary that she is to have no
money for the book--no, quite the reverse, I believe. She was looking
forward to making Sir Hugh a very handsome present--all out of her own
earnings, don't you know--and she wrote to the publishers; but, instead
of Sir Hugh getting a present, he will have to give her a check to cover
the deficit, poor man! Disappointing, isn't it?--quite horrid, I call
it; and every one thought the novel such a success--your friend, Mr.
Quirk, was most enthusiastic--and we made sure that the public would be
equally impressed. It isn't the loss of the money that Lady Adela frets
about; it is the publishers telling her that so few copies have been
sold; and we made sure, from all that was said in the papers--especially
those that Mr. Quirk was kind enough to send--that the book was going to
be read everywhere. Mind you don't say anything of the young Greek
sailor until Lady Adela herself shows you the MS.; and of course you
mustn't recognize your own portrait, for that is merely a guess of mine.
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