"Yes; that was one of my old fancies. I am going right away into the country, at all events for a year or two. I suppose I shall write novels."
He moved uneasily under her gaze, and affected a cheerfulness which could not deceive her.
"Has your book been a success?" Ida asked.
"No; it fell dead."
"Why didn't you give me a copy?"
"I thought too little of it. It's poor stuff. Better you shouldn't read it."
"But I have read it."
"Got it from the library, did you?"
"No; I bought it."
"What a pity to waste so much money!"