“Well, Miss ——­ What shall I call you, please?  I like to know the names of people with whom I am dealing,” Mr. Knight observed, with a business-like air.

A sudden shock went over Virgie, making her tingle to her finger-tips at this question.

It was the first time that she had been asked to give her name since coming to San Francisco.

She had lived so like a recluse that there had been no occasion, and she had never decided what she would be called.  She could not use her husband’s name.

If she had more time to think she might have answered the publisher differently; but, as it was, she said, hastily, and not without some confusion: 

“My name is Mrs.—­Alexander.”

Mr. Knight started slightly, and threw a searching glance at her.

“Alexander!  Ah, I used to know—­But, pardon me; I was about to make you an offer, I believe.”

He seemed to consider a moment, then continued: 

“I will give you five hundred dollars for this little work, just as it stands, and if it proves to be a success after it is published, I will add ten per cent, of the sales to that amount.”

Virgie could scarcely credit her hearing at this generous offer.

She had never dreamed of anything like it, and bright visions of future prosperity for herself and her child, attained through her own efforts, alone, flitted through her mind.

But she did not lose her self-possession or betray her excessive delight at the unexpected proposal.

“What am I to understand by your words, ‘if it proves a success?’” she asked.

Again the publisher’s eyes twinkled.

He knew that she was a novice in dealing with business men, but he saw that she was shrewd and practical, and, finding her talent valuable, meant to make the most of it.

He meant, however, to do so well by her that she would be satisfied to give her services exclusively to him.

“Well,” he replied, “if the sales reach a thousand copies I shall consider the book a success.”

He knew well enough, if he could get it out in season, he could easily sell three times that number for it was a wonderfully unique and attractive affair.

“More than that,” he continued, “if you are pleased to accept my offer, I should like to engage you to prepare two or three designs of a similar character for the Easter trade.”

Virgie was not proof against all this good fortune.  Her lips trembled, and she was very near breaking down.

It seemed almost as if heaven had suddenly opened and sent her a kind friend in the midst of her darkness and trouble.

“You are very kind, sir; I feel that you have made me a most liberal offer, and I accept it most gratefully,” she said.

Something in her tone—­a sort of hopeless cadence mingling with the gratitude, as if with all this good fortune there were a lurking despair in her heart—­touched the gentleman deeply.