"Excuse me, Miss Carnaby, you are inaccurate; what I said, or intended to say, was that I thought I was so clever that I ought to do something better than write such stories as those. Humility is not one of my many virtues, as you will perceive as you come to know me better."
"It isn't one of mine, either."
"No; I'd already perceived that, though I have only known you for half an hour."
Isabel laughed. "You are very candid."
"Candour has a place, I am glad to say, in my répertoire of excellencies. I derive much pleasure from the exercise of it myself, and as no one takes any notice of my opinion, it really doesn't do any harm."
"I suppose you feel you ought to write a big book, instead of sticking to short stories?"
"I should like to write a big book," replied Paul.
"Well, I am sure you can, and therefore I am sure you will."
Paul looked at the speaker appreciatively. "It is true that if a man can write a book he will do it sooner or later; but how did you come to know a thing like that?"
"I can't tell. I knew it of myself without being told. I always say that writing is like flirting; if you can't do it, nobody can teach you to do it; and if you can do it, nobody can keep you from doing it."