" I tore it open, reading as I slowly walked. Mr.
---- had written as follows, in his hurried hand:
"OFFICE OF ----'s MAGAZINE.
"MY DEAR MISS MARRIOTT:
"I return the MSS. you sent us, and I have no hesitation in saying that
your friend is a genius. In fact, I was so chained by the somewhat wild
and singular style that I sat up most of Tuesday night to go through it
myself.
"Of course in their present disconnected state, the fragments are quite
unavailable to us, but when worked into a story, they ought to make a
success. I hope we shall have the first reading of the completed book. I
understand it is the work of a beginner, but it bears none of the marks
of the novice, and I can but think we have discovered the 'coming
American novelist.'
"By the way, how is your own book coming on?
"Yours in haste,
"---- ----."
I had walked on some distance from the post-office as I read this, for
Mr. ----'s chirography was almost undecipherable, even to one accustomed
to it. I was just folding the letter to replace it in the envelope, when
I heard heavy footsteps hurrying behind me. I turned my head and saw
Wilson, quite red in the face with trying to overtake me. "Beg pardon,
Miss," he said, touching his hat, "I saw you coming out of the office,
and--I'd like to speak to you a minute, if I may."
"What is it?" I asked, somewhat surprised.
Pages:
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76