Читать книгу The Peacock Feather. A Romance онлайн

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He pulled himself together. That house—the old place down in the country—was in the hands of caretakers. It did not do to think about the past at his time of life. He was certainly perturbed to use that phrase. He turned to the address of the publishers, then glanced at the telephone on his writing-desk and from it to the clock. The hands pointed to ten minutes to ten. Of course, it was too late to ring up a business [Pg 68]house, much too late. Besides, pseudonyms were sacred to publishers, or should be. Quite possibly, too, it was not a pseudonym. It was absurd that he should suppose that it was. It was a good book, however, a very good book. He should like to see what the reviews had to say about it. It was always interesting to hear public opinion on a good book; and, to a certain extent, reviewers constituted the public. There were places—he had heard of them—where reviews were collected. He must find out the name of one of them. Yes; he would like to see whether the reviewers did not endorse his own opinion. He would tell Mrs. Cresswell he had appreciated her recommendation. Possibly he would write a note to-morrow and tell her. It would please her to hear that he had liked the book she had advised him to read.