"He thinks he'll never write another."
"Well, perhaps he won't."
"He will—think of it—he's a genius, the real thing, this time. Only—he has to stand behind a counter and make catalogues."
Miss Palliser meditated. "Does he—does he by any chance drop his aitches?"
"Kitty, he does."
"Then Lucy, dear child, beware, beware, his flashing eyes, his floating hair—"
"Don't. That little man is on my mind."
"I shouldn't let him stop there too long, if I were you. He might refuse to get on."
"I must do something for him, and I must do it now. What can I do?"
"Not much, I imagine."