"I don't pretend
to be up in such recondite forms of humour," he said, still stiffly.
"Of course you address yourself to a very small class of readers."
"Oh, infinitely small," admitted the Professor, extending his hand
toward the manuscript.
Harviss appeared to be pursuing his own train of thought. "That is,"
he continued, "if you insist on an ironical interpretation."
"If I insist on it--what do you mean?"
The publisher smiled faintly. "Well--isn't the book susceptible of
another? If _I_ read it without seeing--"
"Well?" murmured the other, fascinated.--"why shouldn't the rest
of the world?" declared Harviss boldly. "I represent the Average
Reader--that's my business, that's what I've been training myself to
do for the last twenty years. It's a mission like another--the thing
is to do it thoroughly; not to cheat and compromise. I know fellows
who are publishers in business hours and dilettantes the rest of the
time. Well, they never succeed: convictions are just as necessary in
business as in religion. But that's not the point--I was going to
say that if you'll let me handle this book as a genuine thing I'll
guarantee to make it go."
The Professor stood motionless, his hand still on the manuscript.
"A genuine thing?" he echoed.
"A serious piece of work--the expression of your convictions. I tell
you there's nothing the public likes as much as convictions--they'll
always follow a man who believes in his own ideas. And this book is
just on the line of popular interest.
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