"Oh, no; I keep them in different pigeon-holes," Cicely replied blandly.
"Ah, yes. Do you? Very good!" He laughed a little vaguely. "Are they to come out soon?"
"This winter, all but one. That will not appear for seven years."
"Indeed. And are you willing, Mrs. Farrington to tell me when you do your writing?"
"Certainly. I do it all at night."
"But isn't that very wearing?"
"Of course. I am often a total wreck for months after finishing a book."
"Where do you do your writing?"
For a moment, Cicely hesitated between the rival charms of the front steps and the attic. Then she replied,—
"In the kitchen."