But Augusta, though she felt sadly inclined to flee, still stood to her guns, for, to tell the truth, her need was very great.
"I could not afford to wait for the seven per cent, Mr.Meeson," she said humbly.
"Oh, ye gods! seven per cent, when he makes about forty-five!" murmured Eustace, in the background.
"Possibly, Miss Smithers; possibly;" went on the great man.

"You must really forgive me if I am not acquainted with the exact condition of your private affairs.

I am, however, aware from experience that the money matters of most writing people are a little embarrassed." Augusta winced, and Mr.Meeson, rising heavily from his chair, went to a large safe which stood near, and extracted from it a bundle of agreements.

These he glanced at one by one till he found what he was looking for.
"Here is the agreement," he said; "let me see?
ah, I thought so--copyright fifty pounds, half proceeds of rights of translation, and a clause binding you to offer any future work you may produce during the next five years to our house on the seven per cent agreement, or a sum not exceeding one hundred pounds for the copyright.

Now, Miss Smithers, what have you to say?
You signed this paper of your own free will.