It irks me to find more praise
bestowed on the praised-enough,--even on groups of secondary importance,
sometimes just because they are remote (in England, perhaps), and so can be
treated with an easy objectivity. To dig in your own day and your own
community is harder, but I should feel it more rewarding."
"But aren't the English books really better? Haven't they more depth,
substance and background?"
"Possibly,--according to the conventions they themselves have established--
and according to the society they depict."
"Well, Academe hasn't nailed you yet!"
"No; and I hope it won't. I should like to write a whole book about our new
men."
"But don't write a thesis and then expect to publish it with profit
_as_ a book. That's a common enough expectation--or temptation."
They turned away from the lake terrace and the imposing coal-pile. Cope,
Randolph saw, was in quite a glow; a generous interest had touched him,
putting fresh light into his eyes and a new vigor into his step. He had
displayed a charming enthusiasm, and a pure, disinterested one. Randolph,
under a quiet exterior, was delighted.
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