'I was told,' he continued, hardening face and voice, 'by someone
who had it from Jedwood.'
Yule was conscious of untruth in this statement, but his mood
would not allow him to speak ingenuously, and he wished to note
the effect upon Marian of what he said. There were two beliefs in
him: on the one hand, he recognised Fadge in every line of the
writing; on the other, he had a perverse satisfaction in
convincing himself that it was Milvain who had caught so
successfully the master's manner. He was not the kind of man who
can resist an opportunity of justifying, to himself and others, a
course into which he has been led by mingled feelings, all more
or less unjustifiable.
'How should Jedwood know?' asked Marian.
Yule shrugged his shoulders.
'As if these things didn't get about among editors and
publishers!'
'In this case, there's a mistake.'
'And why, pray?' His voice trembled with choler. 'Why need there
be a mistake?'
'Because Mr Milvain is quite incapable of reviewing your book in
such a spirit.'
'There is your mistake, my girl. Milvain will do anything that's
asked of him, provided he's well enough paid.
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