"I'm sorry," John confessed, "but it happens that I did not write a word of it."
"Really? I thought—he said you were there——"
"I was, but you must remember I'm only a cub. I couldn't be trusted with a big story like that. It was written by our star man."
"Wasn't it wonderful?"
"You mean what Mr. Gibson did?"
"Yes," before he realized he added, "and I have an idea that to hear you say so means more to him than all that has been written."
"He has—been kind enough—to say—something like that."
Then she laughed.
"I suppose," she said, "he wouldn't care very much to have me tell you such things. You wouldn't believe me if I told you that what he said didn't please me, would you?"