"It ruins the whole effect! It's _unspeakably_ vulgar! After that glowing, that impassioned Foreword--_this_! Hardly a month ago that lovely apostrophe to Truth Naked--that beautiful image of her stark and innocent on our banners but with a forest of bright bayonets bristling about her--and now _this_! It's revolting!" But Mr. Strong had himself written that impassioned Foreword, and knew all about it. Again he had given his proprietor's wife that quietly humouring look. "Do you mean that the 'Novum's' going to refuse advertisements?" "I mean that I blue-pencilled that one myself." "And what about the others--the 'Eden' and the Suffrage Shop and Wyron's Lectures?" "They're different. They _are_ the Cause. You said yourself that the 'Novum' was going to be a sort of generalissimo, and these the brigades or whatever they're called. They are, at any rate, doing the Work. Is _that_ doing any Work, I should like to know?" Mr. Strong had refrained from flippancy.--"I see what you mean," he had replied equably. "At the same time, if you're going to refuse advertisements the thing's going to cost a good deal more money." "Well?" Amory had replied, as who might say, "Has money been refused you yet?" Strong had given a compliant shrug--"All right. That means I censor the advertisements, I suppose. New industry. Very well. The 'Eden' and Wyron's Lectures and Week-end Cottages and the Plato Press only, then. I'll strike out that '_Platinum: False Teeth Bought_.' But I warn you it will cost more." "Never mind that." And so the incident had ended.