After that, they might begin a
little book-teaching again--say an hour and a half a day for
everyone above nine years old. Do you suppose, Mr Milvain, that
society is going to be reformed by you people who write for
money? Why, you are the very first class that will be swept from
the face of the earth as soon as the reformation really begins!'
Alfred puffed at his cigarette. His thoughts were occupied with
Mr Fadge and The Study. He was considering whether he could aid
in bringing public contempt upon that literary organ and its
editor. Milvain listened to the elder man's diatribe with much
amusement.
'You, now,' pursued John, 'what do you write about?'
'Nothing in particular. I make a salable page or two out of
whatever strikes my fancy.'
'Exactly! You don't even pretend that you've got anything to say.
You live by inducing people to give themselves mental
indigestion--and bodily, too, for that matter.'
'Do you know, Mr Yule, that you have suggested a capital idea to
me? If I were to take up your views, I think it isn't at all
unlikely that I might make a good thing of writing against
writing.
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