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To-morrow?
By
Victoria Cross
"Cras te victurum, cras dicis Postume semper
Dic mihi cras istud, Postume quando venit?
Quam longe cras istud, ubi est? aut unde petendum?
Cras istud quanti dic mihi, possit emi?
Cras vives? hodie jam vivere, Postume, serum est
Ille sapit, quisquis Postume, vixit heri."
MART. v. lviii.
CHAPTER I.
"REJECTED! rejected!"
I crushed the letter spasmodically in my hand as I walked
mechanically up and down the length of the dining-room, a rage of
anger filling my brain and the blood thundering in my ears.
"Rejected! and that not for the first time. Another year and a
half's work flung away--simply flung away, and I am no nearer
recognition than ever. Incredible it seems that they won't accept
that."
I stopped under the gasalier and glanced again through the letter I
had just received.
"DEAR SIR,--With reference to your last MS., we regret to say we
cannot undertake its publication, owing to the open way in which you
express your unusual religious views and your contempt for existing
institutions.
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