"Why?"
"I don't deny it would be a great book," said Didcott, diplomatically, "but somehow I don't want you to be a literary woman."
Miss Winder smiled a little to herself.
"Why not, Mr. Didcott?" she asked, coyly.
"Oh, I don't know." Then he looked at her. "You were never meant for literary work."
"What!"
"I mean, judging from your appearance," he explained hastily. "Literary ladies are seldom attractive. Their shoulders have an ugly stoop, and they always wear glasses. Oh, no, you mustn't go in for literature."
She smiled tolerantly.
"There is something in what you say—literary women do dress anyhow; but I should like to write just one more book."
He went on hurriedly—