The Canon laid his hand lovingly upon the immense pile of typescript before him. It represented, as he had said, the labour of years.
“Owen is in touch with several publishers, I believe.”
“Possibly so, Lucilla.” The Canon’s tone was not altogether pleased. “But such a work—on such a subject—requires no casual introduction.”
Lucilla wondered, not without foreboding, what it did require. Owen Quentillian, who shared her own inability to take optimistic views on principle, had spoken discouragingly of the modern market for such works as the Canon’s on “Leonidas of Alexandria.”
The Canon himself appeared to entertain no misgivings, until a few weeks later, when he handed a letter silently to Lucilla.
It was a courteously worded assurance from the most eminent of theological publishing firms that the probable sales of such a work as “Leonidas of Alexandria” would not, in their opinion, justify the expenses of publication.
The Canon seemed more bewildered than dismayed.
“I shall approach the Oxbridge Press,” he declared. “I had decided against them, but this very unexpected attitude leaves me no alternative.”
The reply of the Oxbridge Press, although longer delayed, was almost identical in substance with that of its predecessors.
“I do not understand it,” the Canon repeated, and wrote to another publishing house.