"No doubt!" he said, after a little pause--"Mankind certainly prefer the devil to any other deity,--therefore if they elect him as their representative, it is scarcely to be wondered at that he governs where he is asked to govern. And yet--do you know Geoffrey--this devil,--if there is one,--can hardly, I think, be quite so bad as his detractors say. I myself don't believe he is a whit worse than a nineteenth-century financier!" I laughed aloud at the comparison. "After that," I said--"you had better go to McWhing. I hope you will tell him that I am the triple essence of all the newest 'discoveries' rolled into one!" "Never fear!" returned Lucio,--"I've learned all my stock-phrases by heart--a 'star of the first magnitude' etc.,--I've read the _Athenæum_ till I've got the lingo of the literary auctioneer well-nigh perfect, and I believe I shall acquit myself admirably. Au revoir!" He was gone; and I, after a little desultory looking over my papers, went out to lunch at Arthur's, of which club I was now a member. On my way I stopped to look in at a bookseller's window to see if my 'immortal' production was yet on show. It was not,--and the volume put most conspicuously to the front among all the 'newest books' was one entitled 'Differences. By Mavis Clare.' Acting on a sudden impulse I went in to purchase it. "Has this a good sale?" I asked, as the volume was handed to me. The clerk at the counter opened his eyes wide. "Sale?" he echoed--"Well, I should think so--rather! Why everybody's reading it!" "Indeed!" and I turned over the uncut pages carelessly--"I see no allusion whatever to it in the papers." The clerk smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "No--and you're not likely to, sir"--he said--"Miss Clare is too popular to need reviews. Besides, a large number of the critics,--the 'log-rollers' especially, are mad against her for her success, and the public know it. Only the other day a man came in here from one of the big newspaper offices and told me he was taking a few notes on the books which had the largest sales,--would I tell him which author's works were most in demand? I said Miss Clare took the lead,--as she does,--and he got into a regular rage. Said he--'That's the answer I've had all along the line, and however true it is, it's no use to me because I dare not mention it. My editor would instantly scratch it out--he hates Miss Clare.' 'A precious editor you've got!' I said, and he looked rather queer. There's nothing like journalism, sir, for the suppression of truth!"