diminished somewhat our chances of success, in Ethelbertha's mind.
Against bachelors, as a class, she entertains a strong prejudice. A
man's not having sense enough to want to marry, or, having that, not
having wit enough to do it, argues to her thinking either weakness of
intellect or natural depravity, the former rendering its victim unable,
and the latter unfit, ever to become a really useful novelist.

I tried to make her understand the peculiar advantages our plan
possessed.

"You see," I explained, "in the usual commonplace novel we only get, as a
matter of fact, one person's ideas. Now, in this novel, there will be
four clever men all working together. The public will thus be enabled to
obtain the thoughts and opinions of the whole four of us, at the price
usually asked for merely one author's views. If the British reader knows
his own business, he will order this book early, to avoid disappointment.
Such an opportunity may not occur again for years."

Ethelbertha agreed that this was probable.

"Besides," I continued, my enthusiasm waxing stronger the more I
reflected upon the matter, "this work is going to be a genuine bargain in
another way also. We are not going to put our mere everyday ideas into
it. We are going to crowd into this one novel all the wit and wisdom
that the whole four of us possess, if the book will hold it. We shall
not write another novel after this one. Indeed, we shall not be able to;
we shall have nothing more to write. This work will partake of the
nature of an intellectual clearance sale. We are going to put into this
novel simply all we know."