He took them from her, and glanced at the title-page: "Kathleen's
Sweethearts, a Novel, by Lady Arthur Castletown," was what he found
there.

"So it is out at last," said he, for he had more than once heard of this
great work while it was still in progress.

"Yes," said she, eagerly, "though it isn't issued to the public yet. The
fact is, Mr. Moore, I want you to help me. You know all about
professional people, and the newspapers, and so on--who better?--and, of
course, I'm very anxious about my first book--my first big book, that
is--and I don't want it to get just thrown aside without ever being
glanced at. Now, what am I to do? You may speak quite freely before
Georgie--she's just as anxious as I am, every bit, I believe--only what
to do we can't tell."

"All that I can think of," said the ruddy-haired young damsel, with a
laugh, "is to have little advertisements printed, and I will leave them
behind me wherever I go--in the stalls of a theatre, or at a concert, or
anywhere. You know, Adela, you can _not_ expect me to turn myself
into a sandwich-man, and go about the streets between boards."

"Georgie, you're frivolous," said Lady Adela, and she again turned to
Lionel Moore, who was still holding the three green volumes in his hands
in a helpless sort of fashion. "You know, Mr. Moore, there are such a
lot of books published nowadays--crowds!--shoals!--and, unless there is
a little attention drawn beforehand, what chance have you? I want a
friend in court--I want several friends in court--and that's the truth;
now, how am I to get them?"