The book met with rather severe treatment
in critical columns; it could scarcely be ignored (the safest
mode of attack when one's author has no expectant public), and
only the most skilful could write of it in a hostile spirit
without betraying that some of its strokes had told. An evening
newspaper which piqued itself on independence indulged in
laughing appreciation of the polemical chapter, and the next day
printed a scornful letter from a thinly-disguised correspondent
who assailed both book and reviewer. For the moment people talked
more of Alfred Yule than they had done since his memorable
conflict with Clement Fadge.
The publisher had hoped for this. Mr Jedwood was an energetic and
sanguine man, who had entered upon his business with a
determination to rival in a year or so the houses which had
slowly risen into commanding stability. He had no great capital,
but the stroke of fortune which had wedded him to a popular
novelist enabled him to count on steady profit from one source,
and boundless faith in his own judgment urged him to an initial
outlay which made the prudent shake their heads.
Pages:
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313