Delafield bit off the end of his cigar.
"When will your next one be ready?"
He asked it abruptly.
"Oh, I don't know," Jasper Wald had pulled leisurely at his pipe. "Whenever I make up my mind to it, I suppose. It's going to be the biggest thing I've tackled yet, Delafield."
"Well—" Delafield got up to go. "It can't be too soon. You'll have a barrel of money before you get done. Genius doesn't usually pay that way, either. But—;" he could not help himself. "You've got the knack of the thing. Heaven knows where you get it; but it's the knowledge we all need that comes from—"
He broke off quite suddenly as Ellen Wald came into the room.
"I didn't know;" she said uncertainly. "I thought you were alone."
"My wife, Delafield." Jasper Wald made the introduction impatiently. "Ellen, this is Mr. Delafield, who publishes my books."
She came toward them and held out her hand to Delafield. He could not help but noticing her odd manner of moving.
"Good evening," she said.