On their return, the two girls made good progress with the book they were manufacturing for Messrs Jolly and Monk, and early in October it was finished. Dora was now writing little things for The English Girl, and Maud had begun to review an occasional novel for an illustrated paper. In spite of their poor lodgings, they had been brought into social relations with Mrs Boston Wright and a few of her friends; their position was understood, and in accepting invitations they had no fear lest unwelcome people should pounce down upon them in their shabby little sitting-room. The younger sister cared little for society such as Jasper procured them; with Marian Yule for a companion she would have been quite content to spend her evenings at home. But Maud relished the introduction to strangers. She was admired, and knew it. Prudence could not restrain her from buying a handsomer dress than those she had brought from her country home, and it irked her sorely that she might not reconstruct all her equipment to rival the appearance of well-to-do girls whom she studied and envied. Her disadvantages, for the present, were insuperable. She had no one to chaperon her; she could not form intimacies because of her poverty. A rare invitation to luncheon, a permission to call at the sacred hour of small-talk--this was all she could hope for.
'I advise you to possess your soul in patience,' Jasper said to her, as they talked one day on the sea-shore. 'You are not to blame that you live without conventional protection, but it necessitates your being very careful. These people you are getting to know are not rigid about social observances, and they won't exactly despise you for poverty; all the same, their charity mustn't be tested too severely. Be very quiet for the present; let it be seen that you understand that your position isn't quite regular--I mean, of course, do so in a modest and nice way. As soon as ever it's possible, we'll arrange for you to live with someone who will preserve appearances. All this is contemptible, of course; but we belong to a contemptible society, and can't help ourselves. For Heaven's sake, don't spoil your chances by rashness; be content to wait a little, till some more money comes in.'
Midway in October, about half-past eight one evening, Jasper received an unexpected visit from Dora. He was in his sitting-room, smoking and reading a novel.
'Anything wrong?' he asked, as his sister entered.
'No; but I'm alone this evening, and I thought I would see if you were in.
'Where's Maud, then?'
'She went to see the Lanes this afternoon, and Mrs Lane invited her to go to the Gaiety to-night; she said a friend whom she had invited couldn't come, and the ticket would be wasted. Maud went back to dine with them. She'll come home in a cab.'
'Why is Mrs Lane so affectionate all at once? Take your things off; I have nothing to do.'
'Miss Radway was going as well.'
'Who's Miss Radway?'
'Don't you know her? She's staying with the Lanes. Maud says she writes for The West End.'
'And will that fellow Lane be with them?'
'I think not.'
Jasper mused, contemplating the bowl of his pipe.
'I suppose she was in rare excitement?'
'Pretty well. She has wanted to go to the Gaiety for a long time.
There's no harm, is there?'
Dora asked the question with that absent air which girls are wont to assume when they touch on doubtful subjects.
'Harm, no. Idiocy and lively music, that's all. It's too late, or I'd have taken you, for the joke of the thing. Confound it! she ought to have better dresses.'
'Oh, she looked very nice, in that best.'
'Pooh! But I don't care for her to be running about with the Lanes. Lane is too big a blackguard; it reflects upon his wife to a certain extent.'
They gossiped for half an hour, then a tap at the door interrupted them; it was the landlady.
'Mr Whelpdale has called to see you, sir. I mentioned as Miss Milvain was here, so he said he wouldn't come up unless you sent to ask him.'
Jasper smiled at Dora, and said in a low voice.
'What do you say? Shall he come up? He can behave himself.'
'Just as you please, Jasper.'
'Ask him to come up, Mrs Thompson, please.'
Mr Whelpdale presented himself. He entered with much more ceremony than when Milvain was alone; on his visage was a grave respectfulness, his step was light, his whole bearing expressed diffidence and pleasurable anticipation.
'My younger sister, Whelpdale,' said Jasper, with subdued amusement.
The dealer in literary advice made a bow which did him no discredit, and began to speak in a low, reverential tone not at all disagreeable to the ear. His breeding, in truth, had been that of a gentleman, and it was only of late years that he had fallen into the hungry region of New Grub Street.
'How's the "Manual" going off?' Milvain inquired.
'Excellently! We have sold nearly six hundred.'
'My sister is one of your readers. I believe she has studied the book with much conscientiousness.'
'Really? You have really read it, Miss Milvain?'
Dora assured him that she had, and his delight knew no bounds.
'It isn't all rubbish, by any means,' said Jasper, graciously.
'In the chapter on writing for magazines, there are one or two very good hints. What a pity you can't apply your own advice, Whelpdale!'