It is really a dialogue, not a novel at all.

He read me some twenty pages, and I no longer wondered that he couldn't sell it.' 'Oh, but it has considerable merit,' put in Biffen.

'The talk is remarkably true.' 'But what's the good of talk that leads to nothing ?' protested Jasper.
'It's a bit of real life.' 'Yes, but it has no market value.

You may write what you like, so long as people are willing to read you.

Whelpdale's a clever fellow, but he can't hit a practical line.' 'Like some other people I have heard of;' said Reardon, laughing.
'But the odd thing is, that he always strikes one as practical-minded.
Don't you feel that, Mrs Reardon ?' He and Amy talked for a few minutes, and Reardon, seemingly lost in meditation, now and then observed them from the corner of his eye.
At eleven o'clock husband and wife were alone again.
'You don't mean to say,' exclaimed Amy, 'that Biffen has sold his coat ?' 'Or pawned it.' 'But why not the overcoat ?' 'Partly, I should think, because it's the warmer of the two; partly, perhaps, because the other would fetch more.' 'That poor man will die of starvation, some day, Edwin.' 'I think it not impossible.' 'I hope you gave him something to eat ?' 'Oh yes.