He tasted the incense of his occupation when, having sent his first story, the night manager wired: "Great! Keep it up." Richard read and re-read the four words, and it must be confessed felt somewhat ashamed at the good they did him--being the first words of encomium that had ever come his way.

They confirmed his ambition; he had found a pleasant, unexpected window from which to reconsider existence.
It was seven o'clock and Richard sat turning over a pile of papers which related to the purchase of the _Daily Tory_; they had been left by Mr.
Gwynn.

These he compared with a letter or two that had just come in.
"What a fool and old rogue it is!" cried Richard disgustedly.

Then he pushed the button that summoned Mr.Gwynn.
That severe Briton appeared in flawless evening dress.

It was the occasion of the Harley dinner, and Mr.Gwynn had ordered his carriage for half after seven.
"Mr.Gwynn," said Richard, "the Harley purpose is the Presidential hopes of Senator Hanway.