Mrs. Are you going to write a novel?” “Not I,” she answered gaily. “Thanks, Cathy. Bird,—who was rushing up stairs, alarmed by Mr. 'But I don't desire to spoil sport,—not I. On a high chair behind a raised counter the stipendiary’s substitute regarded her malevolently over his glasses. It is the worst of talk under such social circumstances that it is always getting cut off so soon as it is beginning; and I went home that afternoon feeling I had said nothing—literally nothing—of the things I had meant to say to you and that were coursing through my head.
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