had been admitted into the secret of authorship. The critics all
conceded that it was the book of the year, and that it portrayed
with a pitiless pen the personality of the biggest figure in the
commercial life of America. "Although," wrote one reviewer, "the
leading character in the book is given another name, there can be
no doubt that the author intended to give to the world a vivid pen
portrait of John Burkett Ryder. She has succeeded in presenting a
remarkable character-study of the most remarkable man of his
time."

He was particularly pleased with the reviews, not only for Miss
Rossmore's sake, but also because his own vanity was gratified.
Had he not collaborated on the book to the extent of acquainting
the author with details of his father's life, and his
characteristics, which no outsider could possibly have learned?
There had been no disloyalty to his father in doing this.
Jefferson admired his father's smartness, if he could not approve
his methods. He did not consider the book an attack on his father,
but rather a powerfully written pen picture of an extraordinary
man.

Jefferson had met Shirley Rossmore two years before at a meeting
of the Schiller Society, a pseudo-literary organization gotten up
by a lot of old fogies for no useful purpose, and at whose monthly
meetings the poet who gave the society its name was probably the
last person to be discussed. He had gone out of curiosity, anxious
to take in all the freak shows New York had to offer, and he had
been introduced to a tall girl with a pale, thoughtful face and
firm mouth. She was a writer, Miss Rossmore told him, and this was
her first visit also to the evening receptions of the Schiller