"Your advice was excellent," he said, as we sipped our coffee at the
club the night of his return. "I have a clear two weeks in which to
tackle that story, and I feel confident now that I shall get it done.
Furthermore, I shall send the chapters to Herring, Beemer, & Chadwick
as I write them, so that there must be no failure. I shall be
compelled to finish the tale, whatever may happen, and Miss Andrews
shall go through to the bitter end, willy-nilly."
"Don't be rash, Harley," I said; for it seemed to me that Miss
Andrews, having consented at my solicitation to be a docile heroine
for just so long as Harley did not insist upon her marrying the man
she did not love, it was no time for him to break away from the
principles he had so steadfastly adhered to hitherto and become a
martinet. He struck me as being more than likely to crack the whip
like a ring-master in his present mood than to play the indulgent
author, and I felt pretty confident that the instant the snap of the
lash reached the ears of Marguerite Andrews his troubles would begin
again tenfold, both in quality and in quantity, with no possible hope
for a future reconciliation between them.
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