Stanley was
inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he
styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by
“vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. He has
helped me out of scrapes though, no end of times. But, perhaps,
you'll first accompany me to my dwelling for a moment, that we may arrange
our accounts before we start. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out
of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. The soldiers! They must not find her here. Don't you see Mr. If he could keep it up—style and calibre of
imagination—within a year the name of Taber would become widely known.
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