I nodded.
"A certain amount of solitude," I observed, "is necessary for the production of great literature."
George shrugged his shoulders.
"I suppose you are serious. Personally I should find it difficult to imagine anything less enjoyable, or anything less conducive to work."
"I shan't be sailing all the time," I explained. "I shall make a snug little base on Kerrin Island, and do my scribbling there."
"Kerrin Island!" repeated George incredulously. "Why, the place is deserted. No one has been there for years."
"Yes, they have, George," I said. "I spent a fortnight there last time I was home, and, what's more, I built myself a most superior hut. Unless some of the fisher-boys have been monkeying around, it ought to be as sound as ever. I took a lot of trouble over that hut."
At this point George, who had been consulting his watch, apparently decided that I had wasted quite enough of his time for the present.
"Well, please yourself," he said, beckoning the waiter with a peremptory wave of his hand. "So long as you go to Grendon I suppose that's all we can expect. I shall hope to hear soon, however, that you are adopting some really serious and permanent interest in life."
"If it should take the form of an heiress, George," I said, "I will wire you at once without fail."