"And broke 'the child's toy.'"
"Ah, why did you remind me of that?"
"I was reminded of it myself to-day. I'm not superstitious, but my luck has gone. I can't write any more."
"Eric, that's not true!"
He compressed his lips and shrugged his shoulders, resignedly.
"You know best, no doubt. Since we met, I've written the first draft of a novel, which is unreadable, and a play.… I sent the play to Manders about a fortnight ago."
"Without telling me? Don't you like sharing things with me any longer?"
The soft reproach in her voice maddened him. She seemed incapable of seeing that she wanted the whole of him at a time when she was herself momentarily drawing away.
"You choose a curious time to ask that question! There's nothing to share. It's turned down, rejected. Nothing I can do to it will make it even possible. I can't write any more, I'm used up.… Yes, we may fairly say that my luck has gone. And that night, you may remember, you recommended me to fall in love, because it would be so good for me.…"