"There has been no failure approaching it since What's-his-name
invented printing. I hadn't supposed that seven copies of it
were in circulation."

"Really?" said the Duchessa. "A correspondent of mine in
London recommended it. But--in view of its unparalleled
obscurity is n't it almost equally a matter for surprise that
you should know it?"

"It would be, sure enough," consented Peter, "if it weren't
that I just happen also to know the author."

"Oh--? You know the author?" cried the Duchessa, with
animation.

"Comme ma poche," said Peter. "We were boys together."

"Really?" said she. "What a coincidence."

"Yes," said he.

"And--and his book?" Her eyebrows went up, interrogative. "I
expect, as you know the man, you think rather poorly of it?"

"On the contrary, in the teeth of verisimilitude, I think
extremely well of it," he answered firmly. "I admire it
immensely. I think it's an altogether ripping little book. I
think it's one of the nicest little books I've read for ages.

"How funny," said she.