The last thing we desire being to cast aspersions on publishers, a most respectable class of men, we hasten to say that behavior of this kind is very unusual with these fine fellows. Statistics show that the numbers of authoresses kissed annually by publishers is so small that, if placed end to end, they would reach scarcely any distance. Otis' action was quite exceptional, and Simon and Schuster, had they observed it, would have looked askance. So would Knopf. And we think we speak for Bobbs-Merrill, Dodd Mead and Lippincott when we say that they, too, would have been sickened by the spectacle.
(from Uncle Dynamite, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)