is relations with this woman had ceased to come near him. They found him blind and deaf to the ordinary interests of life. He never went out anywhere, unless occasionally with her to some theatre. He never invited anyone to come and see him. At first the woman absorbed all his interest, all his powers of love--and then at last the woman and her vice, which was becoming his too. By degrees he sank lower and lower, but he never told the woman the truth, and he still urged her to give up her horrible habit, which now he loved. And she laughed in his face, and asked him if a human creature who had discovered a new life would be likely to give it up. "A new death," he murmured, and then, looking in a mirror near to him, saw his lips curved in the thin, pale smile of the hypocrite.
So far the two young men had written. They worked hard, but their industry was occasionally interrupted by the unaccountable laziness of Andrew, who, after toiling with unremitting fury for some days, and scarcely get
An old-fashioned story of two London reporters who decide to collaborate on a novel. One, the narrator, wants to keep it light, but his partner keeps insisting on "truth" and "honesty," and eventually comes to dominate the book's story. As the story runs out of control, it becomes fairly obvious what is happening.
The writing is pretty good, and the parts of the novel that are quoted in the story make is seem like a decent book, but the ending is no surprise.