She smiled. "Are you hungry?"
"Delightfully," said I.
We sat down at the table. "Now tell me everything all over again," she said.
CHAPTER XII — I AM INFORMED THAT I AM IN LOVE
Mr. Poopendyke began to develop a streak of romantic invention—in fact, tomfoolery—A day or two after my experience with Count Tarnowsy in the Rempf Hotel. He is the last person in the world of whom I—or any one else—would suspect silliness of a radical nature.
We were finding it rather difficult to get down to actual, serious work on the book. The plot and the synopsis, of course, were quite completely outlined; with ordinary intensity of purpose on my part the tale might have galloped through the introductory chapters with some clarity and decisiveness. But for some reason I lacked the power of concentration, or perhaps more properly speaking the power of initiative. I laid it to the hub-bub created by the final effort of the workmen to finish the job of repairing my castle before cold weather set in.
"That isn't it, Mr. Smart," said my secretary darkly. We were in the study and my pad of paper was lying idly on my knees. For half an hour I had been trying to think of a handy sentence with which to open the story; the kind of sentence that catches the unwary reader's attention at a glance and makes for interest.
"What is it, then?" I demanded, at once resenting an opinion.