"Oh, no, sir," said Jones, "nothing at all."
"And now tell me—for remember that the reputation of our magazine is at stake—does this story make a decided impression on you? Has it," and here I cast my eye casually at the latest announcement of a rival publication, "the kind of tour de force which at once excites you to the full qui vive and which contains a sustained brio that palpitates on every page? Answer carefully, Jones, because if it hasn't, I won't buy it."
"I think it has," he said.
"Very well," I answered; "now bring the author to me."
In the interval of waiting, I hastily ran my eye through the pages of the manuscript.
Presently they brought the author back again. He had assumed a look of depression.
"I have decided," I said, "to take your manuscript."
Joy broke upon his face. He came nearer to me as if to lick my hand.
"Stop a minute," I said. "I am willing to take your story, but there are certain things, certain small details which I want to change."
"Yes?" he said timidly.