That evening at our _table-d'hote_, however, it was amply justified. A smooth-faced young man of ample girth and most prosperous exterior happened to sit next us. He had his wife with him, so I judged it safe to launch on conversation. We soon found out he was the millionaire editor-proprietor of a great London daily, with many more strings to his journalistic bow; his honoured name was Elworthy. I mentioned casually that we thought of going for the winter to Egypt. He pricked his ears up. But at the time he said nothing. After dinner, we adjourned to the cosy _salon_. I talked to him and his wife; and somehow, that evening, the devil entered into me. I am subject to devils. I hasten to add, they are mild ones. I had one of my reckless moods just then, however, and I reeled off rattling stories of our various adventures. Mr. Elworthy believed in youth and audacity; I could see I interested him. The more he was amused, the more reckless I became. 'That's bright,' he said at last, when I told him the tale of our amateur exploits in the sale of Manitous. 'That would make a good article!' 'Yes,' I answered, with bravado, determined to strike while the iron was hot. 'What the _Daily Telephone_ lacks is just one enlivening touch of feminine brightness.' He smiled. 'What is your forte?' he inquired. 'My forte,' I answered, 'is--to go where I choose, and write what I like about it.' He smiled again. 'And a very good new departure in journalism, too! A roving commission! Have you ever tried your hand at writing?' Had I ever tried! It was the ambition of my life to see myself in print; though, hitherto, it had been ineffectual. 'I have written a few sketches,' I answered, with becoming modesty. As a matter of fact, our office bulged with my unpublished manuscripts. 'Could you let me see them?' he asked. I assented, with inner joy, but outer reluctance. 'If you wish it,' I murmured; 'but--you must be _very_ lenient!' [Illustration: HE READ THEM, CRUEL MAN, BEFORE MY VERY EYES.] Though I had not told Elsie, the truth of the matter was, I had just then conceived an idea for a novel--my _magnum opus_--the setting of which compelled Egyptian local colour; and I was therefore dying to get to Egypt, if chance so willed it. I submitted a few of my picked manuscripts accordingly to Mr. Elworthy, in fear and trembling. He read them, cruel man, before my very eyes; I sat and waited, twiddling my thumbs, demure but apprehensive. When he had finished, he laid them down. 'Racy!' he said. 'Racy! You're quite right, Miss Cayley. That's just what we want on the _Daily Telephone_. I should like to print these three,' selecting them out, 'at our usual rate of pay per thousand.' 'You are very kind.' But the room reeled with me.