"I'd thought of—'A Comedy of Temporary Spinsters'—something like that," said the author, and, unseen, colored abruptly.
"That's good!" Mary exclaimed after a moment. "It suggests—so much! Temporary Spinsters.... Only—I hope you don't mean to be cruel to your heroine?"
"Oh, no."
They turned into Olive Street.
"And by the way," said Charles, "she's not my heroine—only my central figure."
"Oh! Is there a distinction? Then will there be two women in this book?"
"Of course—a common principle of writing. Your central figure—in a character story—needs the comment of contrast, you know—of a—a foil."
"I hadn't thought of that. You had only one woman in 'Bondwomen,' you see.... And the contrast—she'll be as different as possible—a working-woman, I suppose?—a Permanent Spinster! That's interesting, I think—a study in contrasting types. Now—by my catechism—I really begin to get an idea—"
"Do you? I don't know. There are points—there are points—which I've never been able to settle yet, myself."
Mary began to search for her latch-key. Splendidly competent though she was, she did not appear to have a regular place for keeping her key, like a man. And Charles wondered if she had quite forgotten that offhand remark of his, the day of his luncheon to Helen Carson, that he was drawing his Line from his life....