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           ConniewonderedalittleoverClifford’sblind,imperiousinstincttobecomeknown:known,thatis,tothevastamorphousworldhedidnothimselfknow,andofwhichhewasuneasilyafraid;knownasawriter,asafirst-classmodernwriter.Conniewasawarefromsuccessful,old,hearty,bluffingSirMalcolm,thatartistsdidadvertisethemselves,andexertthemselvestoputtheirgoodsover.Butherfatherusedchannelsready-made,usedbyalltheotherR.A.swhosoldtheirpictures.WhereasClifforddiscoverednewchannelsofpublicity,allkinds.HehadallkindsofpeopleatWragby,withoutexactlyloweringhimself.But,determinedtobuildhimselfamonumentofareputationquickly,heusedanyhandyrubbleinthemaking.

           Michaelisarrivedduly,inaveryneatcar,withachauffeurandamanservant.HewasabsolutelyBondStreet!ButatsightofhimsomethinginClifford’scountysoulrecoiled.Hewasn’texactly...notexactly...infact,hewasn’tatall,well,whathisappearanceintendedtoimply.ToCliffordthiswasfinalandenough.Yethewasverypolitetotheman;totheamazingsuccessinhim.Thebitch-goddess,assheiscalled,ofSuccess,roamed,snarlingandprotective,roundthehalf-humble,half-defiantMichaelis’heels,andintimidatedCliffordcompletely:forhewantedtoprostitutehimselftothebitch-goddess,Successalso,ifonlyshewouldhavehim.

           Michaelisobviouslywasn’tanEnglishman,inspiteofallthetailors,hatters,barbers,bootersoftheverybestquarterofLondon.