The sad ending which is so hateful to the ordinary reader is regarded by some reviewers as a cheap device for enlisting popular attention, and many complaints have been made of its having been used unnecessarily. There may be some writers who deliberately make up their minds to bring their stories to a tragical conclusion, but if such persons exist they must be very bad artists. In my own case I certainly did not contemplate a sad ending when I began to write my novel; but week by week, as I wrote, I became more and more forcibly impressed with the feeling that the doom of my hero was sealed. I tried to get away from this morbid conclusion, and to wrench the story into another channel, but I failed utterly in the attempt, so that at last I had to yield, though, as I have said, I did so with keen regret. William Black, when discussing with me one day the question of the sad ending, said, "People may say what they like, but I know, as a matter of experience, that a book which ends sorrowfully is always remembered far more vividly than one that winds up in the usual fashion with the ringing of marriage-bells." This is quite true, but the young novelist who wants his novels to sell, ought carefully to avoid the tragical _dénouement_, for there are a great many readers who deliberately refuse to read any book which ends sadly. Therefore, though art may require such an ending, from the commercial side of literature it is a huge mistake. Mr. Forster came to me at the time when "Gladys Fane" was in the flush of its first success, and told me with his usual kindly bluntness that he was not going to read it. "My wife has read it, and likes it, but I am not going to make myself miserable by reading any story that ends sadly. You must write another that I _can_ read." And it was this chance remark that led to my next essay in fiction, of which more hereafter.