Oh, come, you mustn't despair. You've only been "spun," as you fellows call it, for a few months. TED MORRIS. Oh, no, it's nothing very terrible to be "spun," if you've got anything to spin on. THEODORE TRAVERS. Yes--a top spins best when it's full of air--a man doesn't. ADAM CHERRY. You see, you won't let anybody help you, Ted. TED MORRIS. (_Rising._) Oh, that's only my nonsense, Mr. Cherry. We're not paupers. (_To Theodore._) Are you coming upstairs to see Nelly? THEODORE TRAVERS. Yes, yes; I'll come up with you now. How is she? TED MORRIS. Oh, not too jolly. You'll be able to make a few notes. (_They go out_.) ADAM CHERRY. Poor boy! Ah, well, he won't be able to help my helping him when I'm his brother-in-law! (_He takes up a photo of Nelly lying on table._) Dear, dear me, fancy me a married man, with somebody to call "my dear!" You're a lucky dog, Adam Cherry--a lucky dog, even if you have been swindled out of all your savings, and have to go on working for your living! Bah! what's _work_ when you've got somebody to work for? Why---- (_Notices Theodore's note-book left on table and pauses._) Hulloa! Our literary friend's note-book. (_Takes it up and turns it about in his hand, musing._) I wonder if there'd be any harm now in looking inside? I should like to see how he goes to work--oh, it's only just the same as an artist's sketch-book, and nobody minds looking into that. (_Opens it at end and reads._) "June 28th, Brussels. Good idea for farcical comedy. N.B. Will probably need toning down for English market. Married lady starts to call on elderly gentleman of irreproachable character, she----"(_Reads on with broadening smile extending to chuckle--suddenly checks himself._) Yes--it probably would (_Turns over more leaves._) Hulloa, what's this marked "Unfinished. Novel or comedy. Characters: Good-hearted, but chuckle-headed old man, knows himself fifty-five, calls himself forty-five, fancies himself thirty-five." (_Chuckles_): Ah, yes, I know that class of man--very clever, very clever! "Young artist, somewhat conventional type, see page 3. Girl, cross between the romantically heroic and the quaintly practical. Girl loves artist. Artist loves girl. But both are poor. Old chap, well off, proposes to girl. She, tired of poverty, throws love to the dogs and accepts. Old fellow suspects nothing and tells himself that he will soon win her love by his devotion and all that sort of thing. Will he ever find out the truth?" Ah, yes, that ought to make a capital story. I wonder what _will_ happen? (_Putting down book._) I feel quite sorry for that old man. A _very_ interesting little story indeed. I wonder where he got it from now? (_Takes up book again._) He's dated it June 14th--June 14th--why---- Yes, that's the day I proposed to Nelly--and--he was here that day. (_Sits thinking. Suddenly a suspicion of the truth flashes across him. He hurriedly takes the book and reads again, this time in a