'
'A review?' repeated Marian in a low voice.
'Yes; of somebody's novel.'
'Markland's,' supplied Dora.
Marian drew a breath, but remained for a moment with her eyes
cast down.
'Do go on, dear,' urged Dora. 'Whatever are you going to tell
us?'
'There's a notice of father's book,' continued the other, 'a very
ill-natured one; it's written by the editor, Mr Fadge. Father and
he have been very unfriendly for a long time. Perhaps Mr Milvain
has told you something about it?'
Dora replied that he had.
'I don't know how it is in other professions,' Marian resumed,
'but I hope there is less envy, hatred and malice than in this of
ours. The name of literature is often made hateful to me by the
things I hear and read. My father has never been very fortunate,
and many things have happened to make him bitter against the men
who succeed; he has often quarrelled with people who were at
first his friends, but never so seriously with anyone as with Mr
Fadge. His feeling of enmity goes so far that it includes even
those who are in any way associated with Mr Fadge.
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