After a time he extracted the one he
wanted, handed it to me, and then flung himself into the chair
again.
"Whew! This title won't do. 'The Hermaphrodite!' That's far too
alarming for the British public."
"Oh, bother! Well, go on. Read the poem."
I did so in silence.
"First-rate," I said, when I had finished. "Not a weak line in it.
Not a single weak line. And there's nothing to prevent its being
taken even in this d----d England, I think. The title's the worst
part. You'll have to alter that."
"Why? Swinburne has a poem, 'Hermaphroditus.'"
"Yes--in a volume; and there it's Latinised; and then Swinburne has
made his name, which of course is everything. If you want to make
your debut before the English reading world you must do so with 'Ode
to my father's tombstone,' or something of that sort!"
"Well, if you think Latin would improve it, let's put 'Duplexus' as
its title," he answered, laughing and trying to snatch back the
paper.
"Not on any account!" I said. "That would sound cynical, and cynical
when you're unknown you must not be."
"Oh, well, there! I leave it to you to find a title! I don't care
what it's called."
I looked through the verses trying to catch an idea for a name.
Numbers suggested themselves to me, but none sufficiently vague and
indefinite to suit the English ear. At last I said--
"Do you think Linked Spheres would do?"
"Linked Spheres?" replied Howard, with elevated brows.
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