Your uncle, Mrs
Reardon, declares that Fadge is the most malicious man in the
literary profession; though that's saying such a very great deal
--well, never mind! Of course I was delighted to go and meet
Fadge. At Barlow's I found the queerest collection of people,
most of them women of the inkiest description. The great Fadge
himself surprised me; I expected to see a gaunt, bilious man, and
he was the rosiest and dumpiest little dandy you can imagine; a
fellow of forty-five, I dare say, with thin yellow hair and blue
eyes and a manner of extreme innocence. Fadge flattered me with
confidential chat, and I discovered at length why Barlow had
asked me to meet him; it's Fadge that is going to edit
Culpepper's new monthly--you've heard about it?--and he had
actually thought it worth while to enlist me among contributors!
Now, how's that for a piece of news?'
The speaker looked from Reardon to Amy with a smile of vast
significance.
'I rejoice to hear it!' said Reardon, fervently.
'You see! you see!' cried Jasper, forgetting all about the infant
in the next room, 'all things come to the man who knows how to
wait.
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