 a minute.
    »The habit was ominous,« he said, looking at her with an uncertain smile. »A
practical literary man doesn't do such things.«
    »Milvain, for instance. No.«
    With curious frequency she mentioned the name of Milvain. Her
unconsciousness in doing so prevented Reardon from thinking about the fact;
still, he had noted it.
    »Did you understand the phrase slightingly?« he asked.
    »Slightingly? Yes, a little, of course. It always has that sense on your
lips, I think.«
    In the light of this answer he mused upon her readily-offered instance.
True, he had occasionally spoken of Jasper with something less than respect, but
Amy was not in the habit of doing so.
    »I hadn't any such meaning just then,« he said. »I meant quite simply that
my bookish habits didn't promise much for my success as a novelist.«
    »I see. But you didn't think of it in that way at the time.«
    He sighed.
    »No. At least - no.«
    »At least what?«
    »Well, no; on the whole I had good hope.«
    Amy twisted her fingers together impatiently.
    »Edwin, let me tell you something. You are getting too fond of speaking in a
discouraging way. Now, why should you do so? I don't like it. It has one
disagreeable effect on me, and that is, when people ask me about you, how you
are getting on, I don't quite know how to answer. They can't help seeing that I
am uneasy. I speak so differently from what I used to.«
    »Do you, really?«
    »Indeed I can't help it. As I say, it's very much your own fault.«
    »Well, but granted that I am not of a very sanguine nature, and that I
easily fall into gloomy ways of talk, what is Amy here for?«
    »Yes, yes. But -«
    »But?«
    »I am not here only to try and keep you in good spirits, am I?«
    She asked it prettily, with a smile like that of maidenhood.
    »Heaven forbid! I oughtn't to have put it in that absolute way. I was half
joking, you know. But unfortunately it's true that I can't be as light-spirited
as I could wish. Does that make you impatient with me?«
