"We couldn't possibly help going to the Joneses last night, dear."
"Tush," said I. "I mean there is too much of me."
"I don't quite understand," she said; "but there certainly will be if you spend your mornings lolling in that hammock."
The distortive wantonness of this remark left me cold.
"I have made up my mind," I continued, quite seriously, "to do no more work for a considerable time."
"But, my dear boy, just think——"
"I'm going to make myself scarce," I insisted.
"Geoffrey!" she exclaimed, "I knew you weren't well!"
I released myself.
"Josephine," I said solemnly, "those estimable persons who collect my pictures will think nothing of them if they become too common."