"That, of course," replied Mrs. Radigan sagely, "is the most difficult part of literary work, for I have tried using a dictionary and know what it means. Now I let my secretary do it. I just go kind of sketching along the ideas and she puts them together, and very well, too, Hethy Hopper says. Hethy says, too, that if I sign my name the book will be a success, anyway, because I am well known, to start with. But I've a better idea than that—have it look as though John and I collaborated—is that the word? There is something so delightful in the picture of a husband and wife writing a book together, and think of the interest that would be aroused by the announcement of 'The Calf Worshippers,' by John and Sally Radigan."
Radigan's paper rattled to the floor and he sat bolt upright in his chair, staring at his wife.
"Clever—very clever," cried Lord Algernon, pulling at his long, blond mustache.
Radigan's voice trembled a little. "My dear," he said, "it is kind of you to want to share your glory with me, but I would not think of it. A man can have a clever wife, but the minute he becomes clever himself he is lost. Remember, my name is up for membership in the Cholmondeley Club."
"Nonsense," said Mrs. Radigan firmly. "It would silence all those silly stories in Town Twaddle if people thought we had written a novel together."
"But think of my having to go on the Stock Exchange after the book was published," pleaded Radigan.
"You are afraid of yourself, John," replied his wife kindly. "You do not realize that now you are smart enough and rich enough to be a fool without hurting your position in the world. Hethy Hopper thinks the book will be very clever, and by getting it out under both our names we will demonstrate to the world how versified, I mean volatile, we are."
"Clever—awfully clever," said Lord Algernon rising and wandering, apparently aimlessly, to the table, where Mignonette Klapper was knitting her brow over a puzzle of cards.
"Sally is clever," said Pearl Veal quietly to me. "What a woman she is! She has been poor and rich. She was common and became a Knickerbocker and then smart. Now she is clever, and when she wearies of that she will settle down and be good. She thinks she has never been good, and it would hurt her dreadfully to be disillusioned."
A spindly French chair creaked as the Guardsman sat down beside Mignonette.