I'll give it to you now.

But for Heaven's sake don't look at it here! I should see by your face what you thought of it, and you're likely to think precious little of it; you'll think it tommy-rot; though, of course, you won't say so.

Look here!" he went on, as he drew out the precious manuscript slowly, "don't tell me that it 'shows promise'; I can bear anything but that.

That's fatal; it's what all the beastly editors say when they don't mean to have anything to do with you." "Very well," said Celia.

"I will tell you exactly what I think of it." "Honest Injun ?" he queried, his blue eyes twinkling.
"Honest Injun," repeated Celia.