You know my situation perfectly. I haven't a
penny in the world and, occupied as you see me with Morgan, am unable to
earn money."
Mrs. Moreen tapped her undressed arm with her folded bank-note. "Can't
you write articles? Can't you translate as _I_ do?"
"I don't know about translating; it's wretchedly paid."
"I'm glad to earn what I can," said Mrs. Moreen with prodigious virtue.
"You ought to tell me who you do it for." Pemberton paused a moment, and
she said nothing; so he added: "I've tried to turn off some little
sketches, but the magazines won't have them--they're declined with
thanks."
"You see then you're not such a phoenix," his visitor pointedly
smiled--"to pretend to abilities you're sacrificing for our sake."
"I haven't time to do things properly," he ruefully went on. Then as it
came over him that he was almost abjectly good-natured to give these
explanations he added: "If I stay on longer it must be on one
condition--that Morgan shall know distinctly on what footing I am.
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