myself. When I see a picture of you labelled 'The world-famous author of "Trixie,"' I am ready to beat my head against the wall. Oh! I was a fool and worse than a fool ever to yield to the temptation to write a novel. An archidiaconal Jekyll, I called from the depths of my being (where he had slumbered since my birth and where he might well have continued to slumber till my death) that Hyde whose popular and facile pen a mysterious fate has appointed to be the instrument of my destruction."
"Yes," said Dunkle eagerly, "if you make this thing public, it's all up with your advancement in the Church. Absolutely all U.P. it is."
"I don't care," said the Archdeacon, as he jumped up and began to stride about the room. "I can't go on like this. I can no longer endure hearing people tell
