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There
were
days
when
Amory
listened
.
These
were
when
Tom
,
wreathed
in
smoke
,
indulged
in
the
slaughter
of
American
literature
.
Words
failed
him
.
"
Fifty
thousand
dollars
a
year
,
"
he
would
cry
.
"
My
God
!
Look
at
them
,
look
at
them
--
Edna
Ferber
,
Gouverneur
Morris
,
Fanny
Hurst
,
Mary
Roberts
Rinehart
--
not
producing
among
'em
one
story
or
novel
that
will
last
ten
years
.
This
man
Cobb
--
I
do
n't
tink
he
's
either
clever
or
amusing
--
and
what
's
more
,
I
do
n't
think
very
many
people
do
,
except
the
editors
.
He
's
just
groggy
with
advertising
.
And
--
oh
Harold
Bell
Wright
oh
Zane
Grey
--
"
"
They
try
.
"
"
No
,
they
do
n't
even
try
.
Some
of
them
can
write
,
but
they
wo
n't
sit
down
and
do
one
honest
novel
.
Most
of
them
ca
n't
write
,
I
'll
admit
.
I
believe
Rupert
Hughes
tries
to
give
a
real
,
comprehensive
picture
of
American
life
,
but
his
style
and
perspective
are
barbarous
.
Ernest
Poole
and
Dorothy
Canfield
try
but
they
're
hindered
by
their
absolute
lack
of
any
sense
of
humor
;
but
at
least
they
crowd
their
work
instead
of
spreading
it
thin
.
Every
author
ought
to
write
every
book
as
if
he
were
going
to
be
beheaded
the
day
he
finished
it
.
"
"
Is
that
double
entente
?
"
"
Do
n't
slow
me
up
!
Now
there
's
a
few
of
'em
that
seem
to
have
some
cultural
background
,
some
intelligence
and
a
good
deal
of
literary
felicity
but
they
just
simply
wo
n't
write
honestly
;
they
'd
all
claim
there
was
no
public
for
good
stuff
.
Then
why
the
devil
is
it
that
Wells
,
Conrad
,
Galsworthy
,
Shaw
,
Bennett
,
and
the
rest
depend
on
America
for
over
half
their
sales
?
"
"
How
does
little
Tommy
like
the
poets
?
"
Tom
was
overcome
.
He
dropped
his
arms
until
they
swung
loosely
beside
the
chair
and
emitted
faint
grunts
.
"
I
'm
writing
a
satire
on
'em
now
,
calling
it
'
Boston
Bards
and
Hearst
Reviewers
.
'
"
"
Let
's
hear
it
,
"
said
Amory
eagerly
.
