A Golden Argosy by Fred M. White

Edgar and his transatlantic companion walked along Holborn in silence. The former was deeply immersed in thought, and the American, in spite of his forced gaiety, had not yet lost all trace of his late emotion. Presently, they quitted the busy street and turned into one of the narrow lanes leading to Queen Square. Arrived at the house, they were admitted by the grimy diminutive maid-of-all-work, and slowly ascended the maze of stairs leading to Edgar's sitting-room. There were two persons who looked up as they entered--Eleanor and Jasper Felix. Edgar performed the ceremony of introduction, asking his companion if he had ever heard of the great novelist. He had.

'Yes,' said Mr Slimm impressively, 'I believe that name has been mentioned in my hearing once, if not more.--Allow me to shake hands with you, sir. I ain't given to worshipping everybody who writes a ream of nonsense and calls it a novel; but when I come across men like you, I want to remember it. We don't have many of your stamp across the Atlantic, though Nathaniel Hawthorne runs you very close.'