That Henry should be somewhat diffident about invading Kenilworth Mansions7 was therefore not surprising. He climbed three granite8 steps, passed through a pair of swinging doors, traversed eight feet of tesselated pavement, climbed three more granite steps, passed through another pair of swinging doors, and discovered himself in a spacious9 marble hall, with a lift-cabinet resembling a confessional, and broad stairs behind curving up to Paradise. On either side of him, in place of priceless works by old masters, were great tablets inscribed10 with many names in gold characters. He scanned these tablets timidly, and at length found what he wanted, 'Mark Snyder, Literary Agent,' under the heading 'Third Floor.' At the same moment a flunkey in chocolate and cream approached him.
'Mr. Snyder?' asked Henry.
'Third-floor, left,' pronounced the flunkey, thus giving the tablets the force of his authority.
As Henry was wafted11 aloft in the elevator, with the beautiful and innocuous flunkey as travelling companion, he could not help contrasting that official with the terrible Powellian caretaker who haunted the Powellian stairs.
On the third-floor, which seemed to be quite a world by itself, an arrow with the legend 'Mark Snyder, Literary Agent,' directed his mazed12 feet along a corridor to a corner where another arrow with the legend 'Mark Snyder, Literary Agent,' pointed13 along another corridor. And as he progressed, the merry din3 of typewriters grew louder and louder. At length he stood in front of a glassy door, and on the face of the door, in a graceful14 curve, was painted the legend, 'Mark Snyder, Literary Agent.' Shadows of vague moving forms could be discerned on the opalescent15 glass, and the chatter16 of typewriters was almost disconcerting.
Henry paused.
That morning Mr. Mark Snyder had been to Powells on the business of one of his clients, a historian of the Middle Ages, and in the absence of Sir George had had a little talk with Henry. And Henry had learnt for the first time what a literary agent was, and, struck by the man's astuteness17 and geniality18, had mentioned the matter of Love in Babylon. Mr. Snyder had kindly19 promised to look into the matter of Love in Babylon himself if Henry could call on him instantly with the manuscript. The reason for haste was that on the morrow Mr. Snyder was leaving England for New York on a professional tour of the leading literary centres of the United States. Hence Henry's telegram to Dawes Road.
Standing20 there in front of Mr. Snyder's door, Henry wondered whether, after all, he was not making a fool of himself. But he entered.
Two smart women in tight and elegant bodices, with fluffy21 bows at the backs of their necks, looked up from two typewriters, and the one with golden hair rose smiling and suave22.
'Well, you seem a fairly nice sort of boy—I shall be kind to you,' her eyes appeared to say. Her voice, however, said nothing except, 'Will you take a seat a moment?' and not even that until Henry had asked if Mr. Snyder was in.
The prospective23 client examined the room. It had a carpet, and lovely almanacs on the walls, and in one corner, on a Japanese table, was a tea-service in blue and white. Tables more massive bore enormous piles of all shapes and sizes of manuscripts, scores and hundreds or unprinted literary works, and they all carried labels, 'Mark Snyder, Literary Agent.' Love in Babylon shrank so small that Henry could scarcely detect its presence under his arm.
Then Goldenhair, who had vanished, came back, and, with the most enchanting24 smile that Henry had ever seen on the face of a pretty woman, lured25 him by delicious gestures into Mr. Mark Snyder's private office.
'Well,' exclaimed Mr. Snyder, full of good-humour, 'here we are again.' He was a fair, handsome man of about forty, and he sat at a broad table playing with a revolver. 'What do you think of that, Mr. Knight26?' he asked sharply, holding out the revolver for inspection27.
Mr. Snyder laughed heartily29. 'I'm going to America to-morrow. I told you, didn't I? Never been there before. So I thought I'd get a revolver. Never know, you know. Eh?' He laughed again.
'Is this a business office?' Henry asked himself. 'Or is it a club?'
His feet were on a Turkey carpet. He was seated in a Chippendale chair. A glorious fire blazed behind a brass31 fender, and the receptacle for coal was of burnished32 copper33. Photogravures in rich oaken frames adorned34 the roseate walls. The ceiling was an expanse of ornament35, with an electric chandelier for centre.
'Have a cigarette?' said Mr. Snyder, pushing across towards Henry a tin of Egyptians.
'Thanks,' said Henry, who did not usually smoke, and he put Love in Babylon on the table.
Mr. Snyder sniffed the air again.
Henry explained the genesis, exodus37, and vicissitudes38 of Love in Babylon, and Mr. Snyder stretched out an arm and idly turned over a few leaves of the manuscript as it lay before its author.
'Who's your amanuensis?' he demanded, smiling.
'My aunt,' said Henry.
'Ah yes!' said Mr. Snyder, smiling still, 'It's too short, you know,' he added, grave. 'Too short. What length is it?'
'Nearly three hundred folios.'
'Seventy-two words.'
'About twenty thousand words then, eh? Too short!'
'Does that matter?' Henry demanded. 'I should have thought——'
'Of course it matters,' Mr. Snyder snapped. 'If you went to a concert, and it began at eight and finished at half-past, would you go out satisfied with the performers' assurance that quality and not quantity was the thing? Ha, ha!'
'There's only one price for novels, six-shillings,' Mr. Snyder proceeded. 'The public likes six shillings' worth of quality. But it absolutely insists on six shillings' worth of quantity, and doesn't object to more. What can I do with this?' he went on, picking up Love in Babylon and weighing it as in a balance. 'What can I do with a thing like this?'
'If Carlyle came to Kenilworth Mansions!' Henry speculated. At the same time Mr. Snyder's epigrammatic remarks impressed him. He saw the art of Richardson and Balzac in an entirely42 new aspect. It was as though he had walked round the house of literature, and peeped in at the backdoor.
Mr. Snyder suddenly put Love in Babylon to his nose.
'Oh, it's that!' he murmured, enlightened.
'Good!' he ejaculated. 'Good! By the way, might send it to Onions Winter. Know Onions Winter? No? He's always called Spring Onions in the trade. Pushing man. What a joke it would be!' Mr. Snyder roared with laughter. 'But seriously, Winter might——'
Just then Goldenhair entered the room with a slip of paper, and Mr. Snyder begged to be excused a moment. During his absence Henry reflected upon the singularly unbusinesslike nature of the conversation, and decided44 that it would be well to import a little business into it.
'I'm called away,' said Mr. Snyder, re-entering.
'I must go, too,' said Henry. 'May I ask, Mr. Snyder, what are your terms for arranging publication?'
'Ten per cent.,' said Mr. Snyder succinctly45. 'On gross receipts. Generally, to unknown men, I charge a preliminary fee, but, of course, with you——'
'Ten per cent.?' Henry inquired.
'Ten per cent.,' repeated Mr. Snyder.
'Does that mean—ten per cent.?' Henry demanded, dazed.
Mr. Snyder nodded.
'But do you mean to say,' said the author of Love in Babylon impressively, 'that if a book of mine makes a profit of ten thousand pounds, you'll take a thousand pounds just for getting it published?'
'It comes to that,' Mr. Snyder admitted.
And he kept saying: 'A thousand pounds! A thousand pounds!'
He saw now where the Turkey carpets and the photogravures and the Teofani cigarettes came from.
'A thousand pounds!'
Mr. Snyder stuck the revolver into a drawer.
'I'll think it over,' said Henry discreetly47. 'How long shall you be in America?'
'Oh, about a couple of months!' And Mr. Snyder smiled brightly. Henry could not find a satisfactory explanation of the man's eternal jollity.
'Well, I'll think it over,' he said once more, very courteously48. 'And I'm much obliged to you for giving me an interview.' And he took up Love in Babylon and departed.
点击收听单词发音
1 disinterested | |
adj.不关心的,不感兴趣的 | |
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2 charing | |
n.炭化v.把…烧成炭,把…烧焦( char的现在分词 );烧成炭,烧焦;做杂役女佣 | |
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3 din | |
n.喧闹声,嘈杂声 | |
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4 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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5 condemned | |
adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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6 indignity | |
n.侮辱,伤害尊严,轻蔑 | |
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7 mansions | |
n.宅第,公馆,大厦( mansion的名词复数 ) | |
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8 granite | |
adj.花岗岩,花岗石 | |
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9 spacious | |
adj.广阔的,宽敞的 | |
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10 inscribed | |
v.写,刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 );内接 | |
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11 wafted | |
v.吹送,飘送,(使)浮动( waft的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12 mazed | |
迷惘的,困惑的 | |
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13 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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14 graceful | |
adj.优美的,优雅的;得体的 | |
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15 opalescent | |
adj.乳色的,乳白的 | |
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16 chatter | |
vi./n.喋喋不休;短促尖叫;(牙齿)打战 | |
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17 astuteness | |
n.敏锐;精明;机敏 | |
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18 geniality | |
n.和蔼,诚恳;愉快 | |
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19 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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20 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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21 fluffy | |
adj.有绒毛的,空洞的 | |
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22 suave | |
adj.温和的;柔和的;文雅的 | |
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23 prospective | |
adj.预期的,未来的,前瞻性的 | |
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24 enchanting | |
a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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25 lured | |
吸引,引诱(lure的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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26 knight | |
n.骑士,武士;爵士 | |
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27 inspection | |
n.检查,审查,检阅 | |
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28 lamely | |
一瘸一拐地,不完全地 | |
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29 heartily | |
adv.衷心地,诚恳地,十分,很 | |
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30 sniffed | |
v.以鼻吸气,嗅,闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 );抽鼻子(尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气);抱怨,不以为然地说 | |
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31 brass | |
n.黄铜;黄铜器,铜管乐器 | |
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32 burnished | |
adj.抛光的,光亮的v.擦亮(金属等),磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 );被擦亮,磨光 | |
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33 copper | |
n.铜;铜币;铜器;adj.铜(制)的;(紫)铜色的 | |
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34 adorned | |
[计]被修饰的 | |
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35 ornament | |
v.装饰,美化;n.装饰,装饰物 | |
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36 abruptly | |
adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
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37 exodus | |
v.大批离去,成群外出 | |
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38 vicissitudes | |
n.变迁,世事变化;变迁兴衰( vicissitude的名词复数 );盛衰兴废 | |
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39 jargon | |
n.术语,行话 | |
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40 inquisitively | |
过分好奇地; 好问地 | |
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41 sniffing | |
n.探查法v.以鼻吸气,嗅,闻( sniff的现在分词 );抽鼻子(尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气);抱怨,不以为然地说 | |
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42 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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43 narrate | |
v.讲,叙述 | |
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44 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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45 succinctly | |
adv.简洁地;简洁地,简便地 | |
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46 astounded | |
v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词);愕然;愕;惊讶 | |
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47 discreetly | |
ad.(言行)审慎地,慎重地 | |
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48 courteously | |
adv.有礼貌地,亲切地 | |
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49 futile | |
adj.无效的,无用的,无希望的 | |
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