"You have your classics at your fingers' ends, like any philologist."
"That need not surprise you. With regard to the really beautiful, I have neither pride nor prejudice. Even the fact that the common herd of the reading public has made a point of praising him for a hundred years does not prevent me from enjoying a true poet."
"But if you dislike the sea so much why do you come here?"
"Oh," laughed the handsome lady, "that is the fault of my doctors. They sent me to the sea to thin me down, and by their orders I was to choose a very dull, very remote bathing place, where I should be sure not to meet any acquaintances. For directly I have friends about me, I enjoy myself, laugh, talk, and then I get stout again. Now to-day, for instance, I have acted contrary to my medical orders—I have had a very pleasant chat with you."
"You are too kind. You have given everything and received nothing in return."
"That is exactly what I like—always to give, never to receive."
"That is not woman's way usually. But you are very exceptional. Pardon a possibly indiscreet question—do you write?"
"Good gracious! Do I look like a blue-stocking?"
"I never made a distinct picture of that type."
"You need not be afraid, I am not an authoress. The most I have ever done in that way was to give a novelist, or a comedy-writer of my acquaintance, a little help now and then. When they want a lady's letter, they like me to write it. But you—I suppose you are an author?"