Mrs. Highmore's vacuity exceeded my own. "Too 'flippant'? He has made it too oracular. Mr. Bousefield says he has killed it." Then perceiving my stupefaction: "Don't you know what has happened?" she pursued; "isn't it because in his trouble, poor love, he has sent for you that you've come? You've heard nothing at all? Then you had better know before you see them. Get in here with me—I'll take you a turn and tell you." We were close to the Park, the Regent's, and when with extreme alacrity I had placed myself beside her and the carriage had begun to enter it she went on: "It was what I feared, you know. It reeked with culture. He keyed it up too high."
I felt myself sinking in the general collapse. "What are you talking about?"
"Why, about that beastly magazine. They're all on the streets. I shall have to take mamma."
I pulled myself together. "What on earth then did Bousefield want? He said he wanted intellectual power."
"Yes, but Ray overdid it."
"Why, Bousefield said it was a thing he couldn't overdo."
"Well, Ray managed: he took Mr. Bousefield
