The World of Chance by William Dean Howells

"Oh, indeed! " said Mr. Brandreth, with a change in his voice, too, which / Ray might well have interpreted as a tone of disappointment and injury. / "Just at present, Mr. Ray, trade is rather quiet, you know."

"Yes, I know," said Ray, though he thought he had been told the / contrary. He felt very mean and guilty; the blood went to his head, and / his face burned.

"Our list for the fall trade is full, as I was saying, and we couldn't / really touch anything till next spring."

"Oh, I didn't suppose it would be in time for the fall trade," said Ray, / and in the sudden loss of the easy terms which he had been on with the / publisher, he could not urge anything further.

Mr. Brandreth must have felt their estrangement too, for he said, / apologetically: "Of course it's our business to examine manuscripts for / publication, and I hope it's going to be our business to publish more / and more of them, but an American novel by an unknown author, as long as / we have the competition of these pirated English novels -- If we can only / get the copyright bill through, we shall be all right."

Ray said nothing aloud, for he was busy reproaching himself under his / breath for abusing Mr. Brandreth's hospitality.

"What is the -- character of your novel? " asked Mr. Brandreth, to break / the painful silence, apparently, rather than to inform himself.

"The usual character," Ray answered, with a listlessness which perhaps / passed for careless confidence with the young publisher, and piqued his / interest. "It's a love-story."

"Of course. Does it end well? A great deal depends upon the ending with / the public, you know."

"I suppose it ends badly. It ends as badly as it can," said the author, / feeling that he had taken the bit in his teeth. "It's unrelieved / tragedy."

"That isn't so bad, sometimes," said Mr. Brandreth. "That is, if the / tragedy is intense enough. Sometimes a thing of that kind takes with the / public, if the love part is good and strong. Have you the manuscript / here in New York with you?"

"I have it here in my lap with me," said Ray, with a desperate laugh.

Mr. Brandreth cast his eye over the package. "What do you call it? So / much depends upon a title with the public."

"I had thought of several titles: the hero's name for one; the heroine's / for another. Then I didn't know but _A Modern Romeo_ would do. It's very / much on the lines of the play."

"Indeed! " said Mr. Brandreth, with a sudden interest that flattered Ray / with fresh hopes. "That's very curious. I once took part in an amateur / performance of _Romeo_ myself. We gave it in the open air. The effect / was very novel."

"I should think it might be," said Ray. He hastened to add, "My story / deals, of course, with American life, and the scene is laid in the / little village where I grew up."

"Our play," said Mr. Brandreth, "was in a little summer place in / Massachusetts. One of the ladies gave us her tennis-ground, and we made / our exits and our entrances through the surrounding shrubbery. You've no / idea how beautiful the medieval dresses looked in the electric light. It / was at night."

"It must have been beautiful," Ray hastily admitted. "My Juliet is the / daughter of the village doctor, and my Romeo is a young lawyer, who half / kills a cousin of hers for trying to interfere with them."

"That's good," said Mr. Brandreth. "I took the part of Romeo myself, and / Mrs. Brandreth -- she was Miss Chapley, then -- was cast for Juliet; but / another girl who had refused the part suddenly changed her mind and / claimed it, and we had the greatest time to keep the whole affair from / going to pieces. I beg your pardon; I interrupted you."

"Not at all," said Ray. "It must have been rather difficult. In my story / there has been a feud between the families of the lovers about a land / boundary; and both families try to break off the engagement."