"He may do stuff worth reading yet, if he'll take good advice."
"Which is?" asked Paul.
Manning lit a cigarette, cigarettes being allowed after the solemn preliminaries. "You won't like it, Kestern," he said, "but here it is. Burn that. Get rid of it. It's been good practice, and I should judge it's not at all bad, but don't sit tight to it. Anything good in it will stick and come out again; the second and third rate had better go up in smoke."
"Oh, cheese it all, Manning! Show it to Tressor and get it pushed into some magazine"; and chorus of assent from the members backed Donaldson up.
Manning shook his head. "I know I'm right," he said. "Pass the cake, Strether."
Strether disengaged his long form from the chair he occupied, and passed it. "More coffee?" he grunted at Paul.
Paul was watching Manning closely. Then, suddenly: "You are right," he said, and with a swift movement tore the thing in halves.
Donaldson swore.
"Well, I'm damned!" put in a member. "You silly blighter!"
Manning finished his cake, and stood up. He looked round amusedly, stretching himself. "I reckon that finishes the sitting anyway," he said. "Come over to my rooms a little later, Kestern, will you? Good-night, you people."