I have no fault to find. Your punctuation is, I believe, faultless. But these things do not, my dear Archdeacon, make a great novel. As for your tale, it is soupy, prolix and ordinary, while it lacks verisimilitude and abounds in the grossest faults of construction. It is, moreover, in a number of places, timidly erotic. The effect is quite nauseating. Were you to publish this book under your own name, your reputation would sustain a blow from which it would never recover. It seems to me that you would pretty certainly be compelled to resign not only your Archdeaconry, but your Vicarship, and that, of course, would never do."
He paused to sip at his glass and readjust his monocle.
The Archdeacon, with his napkin, wiped away the foam which had gathered at the
