At last Mrs Bassett rose to go. I assure you that I was on my feet almost before she was, for I knew that my talk with Miss Oliphant was not now to be resumed—it was to begin. The author of The Parthian Arrow was piled up with quilts, cradles and Puppetty again, and I need say no more about the thickness of her skin than that she gave me her telephone number and asked me to go and see her. I bowed, and Julia Oliphant towered over her as she showed her out.
Seldom in my life have I held a door open for a woman with greater pleasure.
The outer door closed, and Miss Oliphant reappeared and crossed slowly to the settee. I now knew beyond all doubt that I was right. She seemed suddenly exhausted. She passed her hand wearily over those too-lustrous eyes. Listlessly she told me to smoke if I wanted to. Then she continued to sit in silence.
At last she roused a little. She turned her eyes on me.
"Well—now you've seen the author of The Parthian Arrow."
I made no remark.
"And," she continued, "you did exactly as I expected—exactly what a man would do."
"What was that?"
"You'd one look, and then you turned away."
"One look was enough."