"No?" said Mr. Boltt, smiling in the way of one who says to himself, "God help you, my poor fellow, God help you!"
"I suppose it's all a question of knack," Jimphy continued. "You get into the way of it and you can't stop. Sometimes a tune gets into my head and I have to keep on humming it or whistling it. I'm not what you'd call a sentimental fellow at all, but that song ... you know, about the honeysuckle and the bee ... I could not get that song out of my head. I thought I should go cracked over it. Always humming it or whistling it ... and I suppose if you get an idea for a yarn into your head, Boltt, well, it's something like that!"
Lady Cecily had exhausted the "chatter" of Mr. Lensley.
"What's that!" she exclaimed.
"Lord Jasper is describing the processes of literature to me, Lady Cecily," said Mr. Boltt sarcastically. "I have been greatly interested."
The man's conceit irritated Henry and he longed to disconcert him.
"Yes," he said. "It all began by my saying something about a review of Boltt's last novel in the Morning Report! ..."
Mr. Boltt made motions with his hands. "Really," he said, "Lady Cecily isn't in the least interested in my effusions."
"Oh, but I am, Mr. Boltt," Lady Cecily interrupted. "What did the paper say? I'm sure it was very flattering!..."
"The reviewer said that the book would probably please the vicar's only daughter, but that it wouldn't impose upon her when she grew up...."