book. He opened the door at last,
and came in rather peremptorily. He had the air of having worked himself
into a temper--of being intellectually rather afraid of Lea, but of
being, for this occasion, determined to assert himself.

The introduction to myself--I had never met him--which took place after
he had hastily brought out half a sentence or so, had the effect of
putting him out of his stride, but, after having remotely acknowledged
the possibility of my existence, he began again.

The matter was one of some delicacy. I myself should have hesitated to
broach it before a third party, even one so negligible as myself. But
Mr. Polehampton apparently did not. He had to catch the last post.

Lea, it appeared, had advised him to publish a manuscript by a man
called Howden--a moderately known writer....

"But I am disturbed to find, Mr. Lea, that is, my daughter tells me that
the manuscript is not ... is not at all the thing.... In fact, it's
quite--and--eh ... I suppose it's too late to draw back?"

"Oh, it's altogether too late for _that_" Lea said, nonchalantly.
"Besides, Howden's theories always sell."

"Oh, yes, of course, of course," Mr. Polehampton interjected, hastily,
"but don't you think now ... I mean, taking into consideration the
damage it may do our reputation ... that we ought to ask Mr. Howden to
accept, say fifty pounds less than...."

"I should think it's an excellent idea," Lea said. Mr. Polehampton
glanced at him suspiciously, then turned to me.

"You see," he began to explain, "one has to be _so_ careful about these
things."

"Oh, I can quite understand," I answered. There was something so naive
in the man's point of view that I had felt my heart go out to him. And
he had taught me at last how it is that the godly grow fat at the
expense of the unrighteous. Mr. Polehampton, however, was not fat. He
was even rather thin, and his peaked grey hair, though it was actually
well brushed, looked as if it ought not to have been. He had even an
anxious expression. People said he speculated in some stock or other,
and I should say they were right.

"I ... eh ... believe I published your first book ... I lost money by
it, but I can assure you that I bear no grudge--almost a hundred pounds.
I bear no grudge...."

The man was an original. He had no idea that I might feel insulted;
indeed, he really wanted to be pleasant, and condescending, and
forgiving. I didn't feel insulted. He was too big for hi