"I'm a practical woman. The public read to be amused, and the publishers want what the public will read, good, bad, or rotten; that's my view. You mustn't make me say these things, though," she broke off, laughing, and getting up; "it's most indiscreet--to a Pressman.... I shall send you a copy of _Thy Neighbour's Husband_--to a colleague. Good-afternoon, Mr. Kent. I'll leave you to go on with your work now. Pray don't look so relieved." "I should value the copy ever so much," he said. "It was anything but relief--I was struggling to conceal despair." She put out her hand, and a faint perfume clung to his own after the door had closed. Though her standpoint was not his own, her personality had impressed him, and, as he watched her from the window re-entering her cab, Kent was sorry that she hadn't remained longer. He hoped she would not forget her promise to send her novel to him, and when it reached him, a few days later, he opened it with considerable eagerness. The style disappointed him somewhat, and the story seemed to him unworthy of the pen that had written _Two and a Passion_. But he replied, as he was bound to do, with a letter of grateful appreciation, and endeavoured, moreover, to persuade himself that he liked it better than he did. The lady, on her side, wrote a cordial little note, thanking him for the amended proof-sheets--"I had no idea that I was so clever or so charming." She said she should be pleased to see him if he could ever spare the time to look in--she could give him a cup of "real English tea"; and she was "Very truly his--Eva Deane-Pitt." CHAPTER XV