At last she met my look. “Can you bear to hear it?”
“I think I can bear anything now.”
“Well then, it was really what I wanted to give you an inkling of. It’s largely over you that they’ve quarrelled. Mr. Bousefield wants him to chuck you.”
I grabbed her arm again. “And Limbert won’t?”
“He seems to cling to you. Mr. Bousefield says no magazine can afford you.”
I gave a laugh that agitated the very coachman. “Why, my dear lady, has he any idea of my price?”
“It isn’t your price—he says you’re dear at any price; you do so much to sink the ship. Your ‘Remarks’ are called ‘Occasional,’ but nothing could be more deadly regular: you’re there month after month and you’re never anywhere else. And you supply no public want.”
“I supply the most delicious irony.”
“So Ray appears to have declared. Mr. Bousefield says that’s not in the least a public want. No one can make out what you’re talking about and no one would care if he could. I’m only quoting him, mind.”
“Quote, quote—if Limbert holds out. I think I must leave you now, please: I must rush back to express to him what I feel.”