But this time he was resolute not to undertake three volumes.

The advertisements informed him that numbers of authors were abandoning that procrustean system; hopeless as he was, he might as well try his chance with a book which could be written in a few weeks.

And why not a glaringly artificial story with a sensational title?
It could not be worse than what he had last written.
So, without a word to Amy, he put aside his purely intellectual work and began once more the search for a 'plot.' This was towards the end of February.

The proofs of 'Margaret Home' were coming in day by day; Amy had offered to correct them, but after all he preferred to keep his shame to himself as long as possible, and with a hurried reading he dismissed sheet after sheet.

His imagination did not work the more happily for this repugnant task; still, he hit at length upon a conception which seemed absurd enough for the purpose before him.
Whether he could persevere with it even to the extent of one volume was very doubtful.