I guess we can make it work in America--with illustrations." "Going to have illustrations ?" "My dear boy! What are you giving me?
Do I look like the sort of lunatic who would start a thing in the twilight of the nineteenth century without illustrations?
Come off!" "Ah, that complicates it! I don't know anything about art." March's look of discouragement confessed the hold the scheme had taken upon him.
"I don't want you to!" Fulkerson retorted.

"Don't you suppose I shall have an art man ?" "And will they--the artists--work at a reduced rate, too, like the writers, with the hopes of a share in the success ?" "Of course they will! And if I want any particular man, for a card, I'll pay him big money besides.

But I can get plenty of first-rate sketches on my own terms.

You'll see! They'll pour in!" "Look here, Fulkerson," said March, "you'd better call this fortnightly of yours 'The Madness o f the Half-Moon'; or 'Bedlam Broke Loose' wouldn't be bad! Why do you throw away all your hard earnings on such a crazy venture?
Don't do it!" The kindness which March had always felt, in spite of his wife's first misgivings and reservations, for the merry, hopeful, slangy, energetic little creature trembled in his voice.

They had both formed a friendship for Fulkerson during the week they were together in Quebec.