the character of his novel was not in the least religious. Its morals, he trusted, were sound; vice didn't triumph over virtue or anything like that; but he could not pretend that his story was in the least calculated to turn anybody's feet from the broad into the narrow path. While preparing it, he had allowed the Artist (whom he had so happily discovered within him) to have his way entirely. The Pastor of souls had strictly not been allowed to collaborate.
No, it was out of the question for the name of Archdeacon Roach to appear upon the cover of "Trixie." Quite absolutely not to be thought of.
Yet it was equally out of the question that the story should not appear. There was that Artist fellow to be reckoned with. Was he the man to allow the fruit of his five months' labour to be abolished or
