"Oh!" said Lady Cecily.
"Some rival, I'm afraid!" Mr. Boltt murmured. "Some one who dislikes me...."
"The chief complaint was that your people aren't real...." Henry continued, though Mr. Boltt frowned heavily.
"Yes. I don't think we need discuss the matter further, Mr...."
"Quinn!!" said Henry.
He felt happier now that he had pricked the egregious fellow's vanity.
"Silly of 'em to say that," said Lord Jasper. "Boltt sells a tremendous number of books, don't you, Boltt? More than Lensley does. And that shows, doesn't it? If a chap can sell as many books as Boltt sells ... well, he must be some good. I've never read any of 'em, of course, but then I'm not a chap that reads much. All the same, a chap I know says Boltt's all right, and he's a chap that knows what he's talking about. I mean to say, he's written books himself!"
Lady Cecily was no longer interested in the history of Mr. Boltt's novel. The meal was almost at an end, and Gilbert had not arrived. She glanced towards the door, looking straight over Mr. Lensley's head, and Henry could see that she was fidgeting.
"Gilbert's a long time," he said to her.
She did not answer, and before he could repeat his remark to her, Lord Jasper exclaimed, "I say, you know, we ought to be getting home, Cecily. It's getting jolly late!..."