"Amaimon sounds well," I observed; "Lucifer, well; Larbason, well; yet they are devils' additions, the names of fiends: but--Marian Winwood!" "Dear me!" he remonstrated. "Why, she wrote _A Bright Particular Star_, you know, and _The Acolytes_, and lots of others." The author of _As the Coming of Dawn_ swallowed a whole glass of Chianti at a gulp. "Of course," I said, slowly, "I cannot, in my rather peculiar position, run the risk of being charged with plagiarism--by a Chinese-eyed mental sneak-thief...." Thereupon I threw the manuscript into the open fire, which my preference for the picturesque rendered necessary, even in May. "Oh, look here!" my uncle cried, and caught up the papers. "It is infernally good, you know! Can't you--can't you fix it,--and--er-- change it a bit? Typewriting is so expensive these days that it seems a pity to waste all this." I took the manuscript and replaced it firmly among the embers. "As you justly observe," said I, "it is infernally good. It is probably a deal better than anything else I shall ever write." "Why, then--" said Uncle George. "Why, then," said I, "the only thing that remains to do is to read _The Imperial Votaress._" 8 And I read it with an augmenting irritation. Here was my great and comely idea transmuted by "George Glock"--which was the woman's foolish pen-name,--into a rather clever melodrama, and set forth anyhow, in a hit or miss style that fairly made me squirm. I would cheerfully have strangled Marian Winwood just then, and not upon the count of larceny, but of butchery. "And to cap it all, she has assigned her hero every pretty speech I ever made to her! I honestly believe the rogue took shorthand jottings on her cuffs. 'There is a land where lovers may meet face to face, and heart to heart, and mouth to mouth'--why, that's the note I wrote her on the day she wasn't feeling well!" Presently, however, I began to laugh, and presently sitting there alone, I began to applaud as if I were witnessing a play that took my fancy. "Oh, the adorable jade!" I said; and then: "George Glock, forsooth! _George Dandin, tu l' as voulu._" 9 Naturally I put the entire affair into a short story. And--though even to myself it seems incredible,--Miss Winwood wrote me within three days of the tale's appearance, a very indignant letter. For she was furious, to the last exclamation point and underlining, about my little magazine tale.... "Why don't you stop writing, and try plumbing or butchering or traveling for scented soap? _You can't write!_ If you had the light of creation you wouldn't be using my material".... --Which caused me to reflect forlornly that I had wasted a great deal of correct behavior upon Marian, since any of the more intimately amorous advances which I might have made, and had scrupulously refrained from making, would very probably have been regarded as raw "material," to be developed rather than shocked by.... 18. _He Spends an Afternoon in Arden_