To live in a place where there are not horrible women in wrappers, reeling, foul-smelling men, snuffling children with beer-cans! This is more of my “economy”! * * * * * To-night I sat upon the edge of the bed and whispered, “To be free! I shall be free!”--until I was trembling in every nerve. My beautiful poem! My beautiful poem will set me free! Sometimes I love it just as if it were a child. * * * * * August 10th. Twelve dollars more! * * * * * August 11th. “We have read with the utmost interest the manuscript of The Captive which you have been so good as to show us. We are very sorry to say that it does not seem to us that the publication of this poem would be a venture in which we could engage with profit. At the same time, however, we have been very much struck with it, and consider it an altogether remarkable piece of work. We should like very much to have the privilege of an interview with you, should you find it convenient.” * * * * * Now what in the world do they mean by that? If they are not going to publish the book, what do they want to see me for? And I've wasted two weeks more of my life! I had not reckoned on petty things such as these. I fear I have not much knowledge of men. How can a man read The Captive and not know that others would read it? What are they in business for, anyway? * * * * * August 12th. I begged off from work for an hour. I have had an interview with the great publishers! I have learned a great deal too. I saw the manager of the firm. He meant to be very kind, that is the first thing to say; the second is that he is very well-dressed, and comfortable-looking. * * * * * “Now, Mr. Stirling,” said he, “you know a publishing house is always on the lookout for the new man. That is why I wanted to have the pleasure of meeting you. It is evident to me that you have literary talent of no common kind.” (I bow.) “I wish that I could tell you that we could consider The Captive an available piece of writing; I have read it myself with the greatest care. But you must know, Mr. Stirling, that it is an exceedingly _difficult_ piece of work; I mean difficult from a publisher's point of view. There is very little demand for poetry nowadays--a publisher generally brings out at a loss even the poems that make a reputation for their authors. Whether you are aware of that I don't know, but it is true; and I think of all kinds of poetry a blank verse tragedy is the most to be shunned.” (Here a pause. I have never any tongue when I am with men.)