"I don't know, unless that you were so busy in spring that you had not time to enjoy it. Come, let us get on; perhaps presently you will flag. We must get the book done before anyone comes to interrupt us."
"Never was there such a willing co-worker. You mustn't overdo it, Mary. How many words did I dictate to you yesterday?"
"Six thousand."
"And you gave them to me typewritten this morning."
"I wanted to see how they looked in type. It is all right, Agatha. Even you cannot go on for long, dictating six thousand words a day. We must take the tide at the flow."
"Afterwards I shall do a play—after I have given you a rest."
"More kingdoms to conquer," Mary laughed. "There is only one person like you—the Kaiser."
"I have an immense admiration for him."
Mrs. Morres meanwhile sat and smiled to herself. She had given up the crochet for point-lace, which, as it had more intricate stitches, necessitated the more care. Sometimes she knitted and read with a book in her lap. But when she was not reading, she smiled quietly to herself. It was a curious smile, half-satisfied as one whose prognostications have come true, half-dissatisfied as though there was no great cause for congratulation.
Once Mary was curious enough to ask her why she smiled. Lady Agatha at the piano was playing Wagner like a professional musician. Mrs. Morres's smile grew more inscrutable.