Mr. R. Haslam. (To his wife, in a low tone.) Twenty-one columns.
Mrs. R. Haslam. (Pleased.) Really!
Bishop. (Looking up.) Twenty-one columns?
Mrs. R. Haslam. We are treating you without ceremony, my dear Bishop. My husband has just calculated the total length of the reviews of my book that have appeared in the London papers on the first day. Of course we attach no value whatever to the actual opinions expressed—the critics have to work in such a hurry—and they are so sadly unfitted for their work, poor dears—but the amount of space given is an excellent indication of the public importance ascribed to the book.
Bishop. (Who has been inspecting the book.) How true!
Mrs. R. Haslam. (To Mr. Reach Haslam.) Anything special?
Mr. R. Haslam. No. "Surpassed herself," seven or eight times. "Masterpiece," fourteen times. The "Piccadilly Gazette" is unfavourable.
Mrs. R. Haslam. Very?
Mr. R. Haslam. Yes.
Mrs. R. Haslam. Better tell me.