Verty tried not to smile.
"It's very unfortunate, sir," he said; "but perhaps the paper--I mean
yours--was not written plain."
"Written plain!" cried Roundjacket, suppressing his feelings.
"Yes, sir--the manuscript, I believe, it is called."
"Well, no--it was not written plain--of course not."
Verty looked surprised, spite of his own suggestion.
"I thought you wrote as plain as print, Mr. Roundjacket."
"I do."
"Why then--?"
"Not do so in the present instance, do you mean?"
"Yes, sir."
"Young man," said Roundjacket, solemnly, "it is easy to see that you
are shockingly ignorant of the proprieties of life--or you never would
have suggested such a thing."
"What thing, sir?"
"Plain writing in an author."
"Oh!" said Verty.
"Mark me," continued Roundjacket, with affecting gravity, "the
unmistakable evidence of greatness is not the brilliant eye, the fine
forehead, or the firm-set lip; neither is the 'lion port' or
noble carriage--it is far more simple, sir.
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