"Anyhow," I said, severely, "it's a mean trick to want to damage
anyone, just because he's pleased with himself when he's got a right
to be."

"Well, yes--I'll give you thirty."

"Can't play. I'm going to finish this novel, BILL."

"Is that one of the books you write about in the papers?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to praise it, or cut it up?"

"I'm going to give it such a--well, no, on second thoughts, I believe
I'm going to praise it." And I did.

* * * * *

LETTERS TO ABSTRACTIONS.

NO. III.--TO POMPOSITY.

MY DEAR POMPOSITY,

It was only yesterday that I dined with BULMER, the wealthy brewer,
in his magnificent mansion in the neighbourhood (I dare not be more
precise) of Belgrave Square. You know as well as I do that BULMER's
origin, though it may not have been humble, was certainly obscure.