Sir Dominick Ferrand

by Henry James




"There are several objections to it, but I'll take it if you'll alter
it," Mr. Locket's rather curt note had said; and there was no waste
of words in the postscript in which he had added: "If you'll come in
and see me, I'll show you what I mean." This communication had
reached Jersey Villas by the first post, and Peter Baron had scarcely
swallowed his leathery muffin before he got into motion to obey the
editorial behest. He knew that such precipitation looked eager, and
he had no desire to look eager--it was not in his interest; but how
could he maintain a godlike calm, principled though he was in favour
of it, the first time one of the great magazines had accepted, even
with a cruel reservation, a specimen of his ardent young genius?

It was not till, like a child with a sea-shell at his ear, he began
to be aware of the great roar of the "underground," that, in his
third-class carriage, the cruelty of the reservation penetrated, with
the taste of acrid smoke, to his inner sense. It was really
degrading to be eager in the face of having to "alter." Peter Baron
tried to figure to himself at that moment that he was not flying to
betray the extremity of his need, but hurrying to fight for some of
those passages of superior boldness which were exactly what the
conductor of the "Promiscuous Review" would be sure to be down upon.
He made believe--as if to the greasy fellow-passenger opposite--that
he felt indignant; but he saw that to the small round eye of this