Two evening papers which he brandished nervously, proclaimed "The Diamond Gate" a masterpiece.

The book had been only out a week--( we country mice knew nothing of it)--and already, so his publisher informed him, repeat orders were coming in from the libraries and distributing agents.
"Wittekind, my publisher, declares it's going to be the biggest thing in first novels ever known.

And though I say it as shouldn't, dear old Hilary,"-- he clapped me on the shoulder--"it's a damned fine book." I shall always remember him as he said this, in the pride of his manhood, a defiant triumph in his eyes, his head thrown back, and a smile revealing the teeth below his well-trimmed moustache.

He had conquered at last.

He had put poor old Jaffery and fortune-favoured me in the shade.