Synopsis

Chapter One Plans. It was the old story of woman comforting man in his affliction; the trouble in this instance appearing in the shape of a long blue envelope addressed to himself in his own handwriting. Poor young poet! He had no more appetite for eggs and bacon that morning; he pushed aside even his coffee, and buried his head in his hands. “Back again!” he groaned. “Always back, and back, and back, and these are my last verses: the best I have written. I felt sure that these would have been taken!” “So they will be, some day,” comforted the woman. “You have only to be patient and go on trying. I’ll re-type the first and last pages, and iron out the dog’s ears, and we will send it off on a fresh journey. Why don’t you try the Pinnacle Magazine? There ought to be a chance there. They published some awful bosh last month.” The poet was roused to a ing indignation. “As feeble as mine, I suppose! Oh, well, if even you turn against me, it is time I gave up the struggle.” “Even you” was not in this instance a wife, but “only a sister,” so instead of falling on her acc’s neck with explanations and caresses, she helped herself to a second cup of coffee, and replied cool...