"I don't care for it much myself," he said.
"Growing old? It's the devil, Billy. Don't talk about it. Why aren't you in England?"
"I'm junior partner now."
"I know it."
"I'm a great publisher, Florrie."
She nodded.
"Your men run over to arrange with us in London. There was no occasion for my coming here. But I simply wanted to. I got a little curious—homesick, maybe. So I came. Got in last night. I read your book before I sailed."
She looked at him quizzically and almost, it might be said, with a droll uneasiness.
"You brought it out in England," she offered, in rather a small voice. "Naturally you'd read it."
"Not because we brought it out. Because it was yours," he corrected her. "My word, Florrie, what a life you've had of it."