“We really can’t spare you another week, Miss Severn,” one of the racket was saying--the eldest of them, he was as high-toned as to his dress as a shopwalker in a first-class establishment; a _figurant_ whom he greatly resembled in Lord Lullworth’s judgment. “Oh, no; we cannot spare you so soon. I am holding a special class on The Novel With A Purpose. I think you may find it interesting, though doubtless you are acquainted with some points in the _technique_ of this class of fiction. The title, for instance; the title must be sharp, quick, straightforward, like the bark of a dog, you know: ‘The Atheist,’ ‘The Nigger,’ ‘The Haggis,’ ‘The Bog-trotter,’ ‘The Humbug’--all these are taking titles; they have bark in them. And then in regard to the Purpose--in The Novel With A Purpose, no one should have the least idea of what the Purpose is, but one must never be allowed to forget for a moment that the Purpose is there. It is, however, always as well for a writer of such a novel to engage the services of an interviewer on the eve of the publication of the novel to tell the public how great are his aims, and then he must not forget to talk of the sea--that sea, so full of wonder and mystery beside which The Novel With A Purpose must be written and a hint must be dropped that all the wonder and mystery of the sea, and the sound of the weeping of the women and the wailing of the children, and the strong true beating hearts of great men anxious to strangle women and to repent grandly in the last chapter, will be found in the book, together with a fine old story--as old as the Bible--if you forget to drag the Bible into the interview no one will know that you have written The Novel With A Purpose--one story will do duty for half a dozen novels: two women in love with one man--something Biblical like that. But doubtless you have studied the _technique_ of this class of fiction, Miss Severn.” “I have never studied it so closely,” replied Amber. “I have always read books for pleasure, not for analysis.” And Lord Lullworth kept staring away at Mr. Richmond, and then at Amber. What the mischief were they talking about anyway? And then Willie Bateman chipped in.