,
confident of what he had to tell. "He said it was new and vital and
had money in it: those are his exact words; and he wants to publish it
if you can think of a good ending. There!"

At last it was out and he stood complacent, waiting for her thanks: but
she was not even appeased. "I don't care _what_ he said," she cried,
and for this moment of her childish anger it was true. "I only know I
lent it you and not to him; do you think I want everybody reading all
my diaries?"

"But it was not a diary," he answered, keeping his head clear, "and he
had no idea of course who wrote it."

"He would, though, if he published it." She thought that she had
crushed him; but he merely gained fresh hope, seeing her dally thus
with the idea.

"Never," he replied dramatically. "Nobody will ever know except
yourself and me."

Before that masterly touch, "will," she crumpled up, and fell back on a
new line of defence. "I can't believe," she said, more peaceable,
"he's serious. I know quite well, and so do you, it's nothing: just to
make the time go while I was alone. I took no trouble: wrote it any
odd old time."

"You surely don't imagine," he said, "writers really have to wait for
times and seasons and the proper mood? They could work ten to six like
anybody else, except it wouldn't be artistic. Do you imagine nothing's
good unless it's written with a lobelia in front of you and all that
sort of thing? Some of the world's best stuff has come out of an
attic. The whole thing's nothing but a pose."

She had her answer about Hubert, without asking. Geoffrey Alison, two
years discreet, had suddenly begun to throw bricks in this happy home,
and never even heard the crash.

"Oh," she said, lingering on the syllable till it grew into three.

He did not understand. He saw her hesitate and he threw all his weight
to drive her the way he desired. "After all," he said, using that most
persuasive of openings to a temptation or a fallacy, "what right have
you, artistically, to keep to yourself a thing that may please and help
millions? You especially, who don't even approve of private Art
Galleries because you can't see them! ... I know what it is, exactly;
you're thinking of your husband, naturally; but he need never know.
I'll do the business, all of it, and show you any notices and no one
else will ever guess at all. Think what fun it would be!" (He saw her
eyes light up and knew that he had won.) "Besides there'l