Gomme put himself in his way:
“If you would send it by post, please, Mr. Fosse! Good-evening!”
Fosse came to a halt:
“Oh—a moment!”
He took a pinch of Gomme’s coat-sleeve:
“Y’know the whole town’s as hot over this new humorist, the fellow that wrote The Tragedy of the Ridiculous, as they were over Mrs. Baddlesmere a few years ago; but, y’know, they’re overdoing it—they’re overdoing it. There’s bound to be reaction. So I’ve just written a scalding little thing about it.”
Gomme’s eyes twinkled:
“But——”
Fosse tugged impatiently at his sleeve:
“Y’know, it doesn’t do to go with the crowd. Art is only for the elect. The popular verdict must be vulgar——”