"Perhaps," conceded Wright pleasantly, "but it is a quality which keeps me much in demand."
"You will never," said Bill deliberately, "get very far in your work, old man. For one thing—you have too much money: for another, you take nothing seriously."
"How about yourself?" asked Wright, a little stirred.
Bill glanced at Mercedes, but she smiled at him and nodded.
"I have found out about you, Billy," she said, "So go ahead and talk."
"Who told you?" demanded my husband, not very angrily.
"Partly Wright—I wormed it out of him, after he had let something slip—and, more recently, Mavis."
"Mavis!" said Bill in astonishment.
I did not meet his eyes.
"Why not?" asked Mercedes. "She is bursting with pride in you, naturally. Cela va sans dire! So, after I had probed and begged a little, she let me see the book. It is very wonderful," she ended, with that utter lack of self-consciousness in expressing her emotions and opinions, which, after one was used to it, was rather endearing.