" Henry observed.
"It was difficult to realise the distinguished nature of the company.
You couldn't see the wood for trees, if the simile will hold water."

"Quite so. Should you become as famous as Maister Sinkler, you'll still
find that in any club you enter there will be someone better known than
yourself. That's the best of London. It brings you to your level. Where
life is prolific--look at China--it is least valued. Where geniuses, or
men of talent, most abound, why, it's like Gilbert's era, 'when dukes
were four a penny.' At best, you're only a bit of vegetable in London's
broth-pot. But it's good that it should be so. In the country you are
inclined to esteem yourself too highly, and of all human follies that's
the worst."

Mr. P.'s speech sounded like a literary setting of Flo's opinion:
"You're a somebody here; in London you'd be one of the crowd."

They walked without speaking through the musty-smelling region of Covent
Garden, and had reached Long Acre before Henry broke the silence
suddenly by remarking, as if after much considering of the point:

"You said that one would find some true camaraderie among the literary
set. That scarcely tallies with your rather pessimistic views of human
nature in general."

"Well, after all, it's difficult to be consistent--and speak your mind.
My views of human nature remain unchanged, and though, as you have said,
authors are very like folk, they do have a touch of brotherliness which
you will find in no other profession; certainly not in the musical, of
which I know something. There may appear to be a good deal of
back-biting and jealousy among literary men; but they are always ready
to encourage the new man, to applaud the conscientious worker. Remember
that most authors of genius have first been proclaimed by their fellows
of the pen. In the nature of things it must be so. The asinine public
has to be told who are the writers worth reading. Mind you, the duffer
will get never a leg up, and before any one gets a lift he has to show
himself worthy of it. But I suppose the same might be said of the
business world as well."

"Do you think I'm going the right way for a leg up, then?--if I may bore
you with my own petty affairs."

"Not yet; but you'll soon be shaping that way. This I realise:
journalism will give any moderately clever fellow a living, but even a
genius will scarcely win a reputation that way. Billy Ricketts writes a
book, and even if it's a bad one,