After the fish there came a small joint of lamb, and a couple of dishes of vegetables; then a small custard pudding, and some cheese cut up in very minute pieces in a glass dish, some raw garden-stuff which Doddery called salad, and three of last year's pears in an old Derby dessert-dish. The dinner could hardly have been smaller, but it was eminently genteel.
The conversation was entirely between Captain Winstanley and his aunt. Vixen sat and listened wonderingly, save at odd times, when her thoughts strayed back to the old life which she had done with for ever.
"You still continue your literary labours, I suppose, aunt," said the Captain.
"They are the chief object of my existence. When I abandon them I shall have done with life," replied Miss Skipwith gravely.
"But you have not yet published your book."
"No; I hope when I do that even you will hear of it."
"I have no doubt it will make a sensation."
"If it does not I have lived and laboured in vain. But my book may make a sensation, and yet fall far short of the result which I have toiled and hoped for."
"And that is——"
"The establishment of a universal religion."