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Updated: May 8, 2025
For instance, the publisher will say, as though he were talking of some monster, "The Public will not buy Jinks's work. It is first-class work, so it is too good for the Public." He is quite right in his statement of fact. Of the very small proportion of our people who read only a fraction buy books, and of the fraction that buy books very few indeed buy Jinks's.
I thought we wouldn't wait. Ah, there he is." Sabre thought, "Good. That business is over. Nothing in it. Only Mabel's way." Sounds in the hall. "In the morning room," came Low Jinks's voice. "Lunch ... wash your hands, sir?"
The unfortunate Grummer proceeded to re-state his complaint, but, what between Mr. Jinks's taking down his words, and the magistrate's taking them up, his natural tendency to rambling, and his extreme confusion, he managed to get involved, in something under three minutes, in such a mass of entanglement and contradiction, that Mr. Nupkins at once declared he didn't believe him.
From her employer's conversation at the 'phone, it was clear to Miss Perkins that Mrs. Jinks was spending the afternoon with Mrs Hardy, but why this should have so annoyed MR. Jinks was a question that Miss Perkins found it difficult to answer. Was it possible that Mr. Jinks's present state of unrest could be traced to the door of the beautiful young wife of his friend?
And then in the extraordinary way in which discussions between them were suddenly lifted by Mabel on to unsuspected grievances against him, Sabre suddenly found himself confronted with, "You know how she hurt her knee, I suppose?" He knew the tone. "No. My fault, was it?" "Yes. As it happens, it was your fault to do with you." "Good lord! However did I manage to hurt Low Jinks's knee?"
He thought, "Girding! Sneering! Can't I get out of this?" Then he thought, "Dash it, man, it's only just her way. What is there in it?" He said, "Yes, but look here, Mabel, we started at my riding home in the dark or rather at old Low Jinks's muffin knee. Let's work out the trouble about that." "That's what I'm talking about.
Modern men do not like realities, and do not usually know the way to come in contact with them. I will tell the publisher how to do so in this case. He will find that not one of these people buys Jinks. Most of them will talk Jinks, and if Jinks writes a play, however dull, they will probably go and see it once; but they draw the line at buying Jinks's books and I don't blame them.
I turned to call Jinks's attention to this, and was saying something about a French crowd how much cheerfuller it was than your average English one when all of a sudden Jinks wasn't there! No, nor the crowd! I was alone on Bergerac bridge, and I leaned with both elbows on the parapet and gazed at the Dordogne flowing beneath the moon.
Guess I'm jest astin' you to rub the corners off'n them circumstances so they'll run smooth." Tresler smiled at the manner of the old man's advice, which was plain enough this time. "I see. Well, so long." He hurried out and Joe watched him go. Then the little man rose from his seat and went out to Teddy Jinks's kitchen on the pretense of yarning.
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