“Either.”
“Take the green, then. Where the price is the same I always take the green. It is the stronger, and you get more for your money. Now then, I will be perfectly frank with you. I read your book in the proof-sheets, and I ran it down in great style to your publisher.”
“I am sorry you did not like it.”
“I don’t say I didn’t like it. I ran it down because it was business. I made up my mind when I read that book to give a hundred pounds for the American rights. I got it for twenty.”
Brant laughed, and Buel felt uncomfortable. He feared that after all he did not like this frank American.
“Having settled about the book, I wanted to see you, and here you are. Of course, I am utterly selfish in wanting to see you, for I wish you to promise me that we will have the right of publishing your books in America as long as we pay as much as any other publisher. There is nothing unfair in that, is there?”
“No. I may warn you, however, that there has been no great competition, so far, for the privilege of doing any publishing, either here or in America.”
“That’s all right. Unless I’m a Dutchman there will be, after your new book is published. Of course, that is one of the things no fellow can find out. If he could, publishing would be less of a lottery than it is. A book is sometimes a success by the merest fluke; at other times, in spite of everything, a good book is a deplorable failure. I think yours will go; anyhow, I am willing to bet on it up to a certain amount, and if it does go, I want to have the first look-in at your future books. What do you say?”
“Do you wish me to sign a contract?”
“No, I merely want your word. You may write me a letter if you like, that I could show to my partners, saying that we would have the first refusal of your future books.”