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SCENE.--_A Club-room near Fleet Street. The_ Political Editor _and the_
Literary Editor _of "The Daily Crisis" are discovered seated in adjoining
armchairs_.
_Political Editor._ Excuse me, but haven't I seen you occasionally in _The
Crisis_ office?
_Literary Editor._ Possibly. I look after its literary pages, you know.
_P.E._ Really? I run the political columns. Did you read my showing-up this
morning of the Bolshevik peril in the House of Lords?
_L.E._ I'm afraid I never read the political articles. Did you notice my
two-column boom of young Applecart's latest book of poems?
_P.E._ No time to read the literary columns, and modern poetry's as good as
Chinese to me. Who's Applecart?
_L.E._ My dear Sir, is it possible that you are unfamiliar with the author
of _I Will Destroy_? He's the hope of the future as far as English poetry
is concerned.
_P.E. (cheerfully)._ Never heard of him. What's he done?
_L.E. (impressively)._ He has overthrown all the rules, not only of art,
but of morality.
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