He went back to his golfing friend who was drinking some port steadily with cheese, and said: "Look here, that friend of mine I have just been telephoning to says he wants another title."
"What for?" said the golfing friend, his mouth full of cheese.
"Oh, for his book of course," said Mr. Foley sharply.
"Sorry, I thought it was politics," answered his friend, his mouth rather less full. Then a bright thought struck him.
"What's the book about?"
"Well, it's about art and ... climate, you know."
"Why, then," said the friend stolidly, "why not call it 'Art and Climate'?"
"That's a good idea," said Mr. Foley, stroking his chin.
He hurried indecently, turned the poor golfing friend out, hurried up to town in his motor in order to make them call the book "Art and Climate." When he got there he found the real publisher, who hummed and hawed and said: "All this changing of titles will be very expensive, you know." Mr. Foley could not help that, it had to be done, so the book was called "Art and Climate," and then it was printed, and seventy copies were sent out to the Press and it was reviewed by three papers.
One of the papers said: