had to control himself not to interrupt angrily such dry, interested
palaver, the false voice of commerce and of cant. He stared
tragically out of the window and saw the stupid rain begin to fall;
the day was duller even than his own soul, and Jersey Villas looked
so sordidly hideous that it was no wonder Mrs. Ryves couldn't endure
them. Hideous as they were he should have to tell Mrs. Bundy in the
course of the day that he was obliged to seek humbler quarters.
Suddenly he interrupted Mr. Locket; he observed to him: "I take it
that if I should make you this concession the hospitality of the
Promiscuous would be by that very fact unrestrictedly secured to me."

Mr. Locket stared. "Hospitality--secured?" He thumbed the
proposition as if it were a hard peach.

"I mean that of course you wouldn't--in courtsey, in gratitude--keep
on declining my things."

"I should give them my best attention--as I've always done in the
past."

Peter Baron hesitated. It was a case in which there would have
seemed to be some chance for the ideally shrewd aspirant in such an
advantage as he possessed; but after a moment the blood rushed into
his face with the shame of the idea of pleading for his productions
in the name of anything but their merit. It was as if he had
stupidly uttered evil of them. Nevertheless be added the
interrogation:

"Would you for instance publish my little story?"