“Yes, sir,” said Sippy.

“I think you will enjoy it. But there is just one thing. I should be glad, Sipperley, if you would give it a leetle better display, a rather more prominent position in the paper than you accorded to my ‘Landmarks of Old Tuscany.’ I am quite aware that in a weekly journal space is a desideratum, but one does not like one’s efforts to be⁠—I can only say pushed away in a back corner among advertisements of bespoke tailors and places of amusement.” He paused, and a nasty gleam came into his eyes. “You will bear this in mind, Sipperley?”

“Yes, sir,” said Sippy.

“I am greatly obliged, my dear fellow,” said the cove, becoming genial again. “You must forgive my mentioning it. I would be the last person to attempt to dictate the⁠—ha!⁠—editorial policy, but⁠—Well, good afternoon, Sipperley. I will call for your decision at three o’clock tomorrow.”

He withdrew, leaving a gap in the atmosphere about ten feet by six. When this had closed in, I sat up.