'I have just read this first of your new series of sketches. Allow me to tell you that I think it admirable. In the briefest possible compass you have pictured a whole community in its petty relationships, at once tragic and comic. There is caustic satire in this sketch, yet I find deep human sympathy as well. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.'
When, after a rather amazing outpouring of words—the thing didn't amount to much; just a rough draft really; he hoped they'd like the next one; it was about cauliflowers—he had disappeared into the front room, the Senator remarked:—
'The young man makes an excellent impression.'
'The young man,' remarked Madame, 'is all right.'
Half an hour later the noise of the front door opening, and a voice, caused the two young people to start up out of a breathless absorption in the story called A Kerbstone Barmecide, which Henry was reading from long strips of galley proof. He had already finished The Cauliflowers of the Caliph.
For a moment Cicely's face went blank.
The butler announced:—
'Mr Jenkins calling, Miss Cicely.'
The one who was not equal to the situation was Elbow. He stood in the doorway, staring.
Cicely was only a moment late with her smile.