The End.
There, Sir, you have the ending of ninety-nine novels out of a possible hundred. In the hands of an experienced writer the sentences might be so adapted as to meet the requirements of the book completing the century. Surely the suggestion is worthy of the attention of a Mudie, and the consideration of a W. H. Smith.
Yours faithfully,Multum in Parvo.
SUPPRESSIO VERI.
Mr. "And how old are you, dear Child?"
Little Miss. "I should like to say I'm eight—but Mamma won't let me!"