"Dishonesty is not the general fault of the critics, Lady Carbury,--at least not as far as I have observed the business. It is incapacity. In what little I have done in the matter, that is the sin which I have striven to conquer. When we want shoes we go to a professed shoemaker; but for criticism we have certainly not gone to professed critics. I think that when I gave up the 'Evening Pulpit,' I left upon it a staff of writers who are entitled to be regarded as knowing their business."
"You given up the 'Pulpit'? asked Lady Carbury with astonishment, readjusting her mind at once, so that she might perceive whether any and if so what advantage might be taken of Mr. Alf's new position. He was no longer editor, and therefore his heavy sense of responsibility would no longer exist;--but he must still have influence. Might he not be persuaded to do one act of real friendship? Might she not succeed if she would come down from her high seat, sink on the ground before him, tell him the plain truth, and beg for a favour as a poor struggling woman?

"Dishonesty is not the general fault of critics, Lady Carbury, but incapacity. That is the sin which I have striven to conquer. When I gave up the Evening Pulpit, I left upon it a staff of writers who know their business."
"You have given up the Pulpit?" asked Lady Carbury with astonishment, readjusting her mind at once. Mr. Alf was no longer editor - but he must still have influence. Should she sink on the ground before him, and beg for a favour?
