"I think Countess Margaret understands me very well."
"Yes," said Barker, "she understands you very well." He did not emphasise the remark, and his voice was high and monotonous; but the repetition was so forcible that Claudius looked at his companion rather curiously, and was silent. Barker was examining the cork of his little pint bottle of champagne—"just one square drink," as he would have expressed it—and his face was a blank.
"Don't you think, Professor," he said at last, "that with your views about the rights of women you might make some interesting studies in America?"
"Decidedly."
"You might write a book."
"I might," said Claudius.
"You and the Countess might write a book together."
"Are you joking?"
"No. What I have heard you saying to each other this evening and the other day when we called would make a very interesting book, though I disagree with you both from beginning to end. It would sell, though."
"It seems to me you rather take things for granted when you infer that the Countess would be willing to undertake anything of the kind."