Put this book aside
for a few weeks anyhow. Why not tackle something else? You'd do
better work, too, after a little variety."
"This must be finished by September 1st, that's why not," said
Stuart. "I've promised Herring, Beemer, & Chadwick to send them the
completed manuscript by that time. Besides, no heroine of mine shall
ever say that she swerved me from doing what I have set about doing.
It is now or never with Marguerite Andrews."
So I left him at his desk, and for a week was busy with my own
affairs. Late the following Friday night I dropped in at Harley's
rooms to see how matters were progressing. As I entered I saw him at
his desk, his back turned towards me, silhouetted in the lamp-light,
scratching away furiously with his pen.
"Ah!" I thought, as my eye took in the picture, "it goes at last. I
guess I won't disturb his train of thought."
And I tried to steal softly out, for he had not observed my entrance.
As luck would have it, I stepped upon the sill of the door as I
passed out, and it creaked.
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