We pay dearly for our want of sincerity. We are denied the payment of praise; it has ceased to have any value. Pople shake me warmly by the hand and toll me that they like my books. It only bores me, Not that am superior to compliment—nobody is—but because 1 cannot be sure that they mean it. They would say just the same had they never road allinejl hadjiwritten, f,'T! visit a house and find a' book of mine open face downwards on the window seat, it ends no thrill of pride through my suspicious mind. As likely as not, I tell myself, the following is the conversation that has taken place between my} host nnd hostess the day before my arrival "Don't forget that man Jerome is coming down to-morrow." "'To-morrow! I wish you would tell of these things a little jeatlier." "I did tell yon—told you lust week. Your memory gets worse every day." "You certainly never: told me, or i shaula have remembered it. Is|he anybody important?" "Oh, vo}.writes)|, books." "What sort of books?—I mean, is he quite respectable?" "Ofjicourse, or I should not have invited him. These: sort of people go everywnore nowatls} the-byethave we got, any of hi about the house?" " "Don't think so. Til look snd see. Iffyou had let mo know in time I could have ordered one from Mudie's." " Well, Pye got to go to town; I'll make surejof it, and buy one." "Seems a pity to waste money. Wont you be going anywhere near Mudie's
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.