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One last word4: The Knopfs5 will take the story6 up with the Metropolitan7 if they want it. But I don't want to do anything through Charley Towne8. I dislike him and his kind too much. I've always preferred being poor to having anything to do with cheap people of that sort—simply because they disgust me with life to a degree that cripples my working power. If he telephones the Knopfs he must say that I did not show it him; Mrs. Knopf has undertaken to try to serialize it9 for me—wholly out of good nature—and I must not seem to be paying another game on the side, you see.
I know how generously you are doing this for my interests, but Towne never has any real authority anywhere. Get it away from him, for he'll show it about to his sort—just to seem to have a finger in everything. As soon as you get the story, send it over any afternoon after two oclock, as Josephine10 is not here before.
Don't be impatient with me—laugh at my narrow-mindedness, but people like Towne make
me physically ill and I can't owe them anything. I only wish I could keep my name
off their[?] out
of their mouths, and my books out of their hands, even in print. The taxi is at the
door and I'm off, with my warmest love to you and permission to laugh at my funny
prejudices!