Oh, but you are a charming lady; you can decide everything for everybody, can't you! What delicious letters you write, something unexpected in everyone of them! There are poor dogs of men, Grizel, who open their letters from their loves knowing exactly what will be inside--words of cheer, words of love, of confidence, of admiration, which help them as they sit into the night at their work, fighting for fame that they may lay it at their loved one's feet.

Discouragement, obloquy, scorn, they get in plenty from others, but they are always sure of her,--do you hear, my original Grizel ?--those other dogs are always sure of her.

Hurrah! Grizel, I was happy, I was actually honoured, it was helping me to do better and better, when you quickly put an end to all that.

Hurrah, hurrah!" I feel rather sorry for him.

If he had not told her about his book it was because she did not and never could understand what compels a man to write one book instead of another.