‘Why, what have I said?’ ‘You said to me my name. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. ” He ruminated for a minute. The prostitute’s attack was predictable, typical. I have read that authors are very selfish and self-centred. Then, presto! What a dreary lot they are when the revellers lay aside the motley! Ruth had come from a far South Sea isle. And she felt that if she went home it was imperative to pay. There are so many girls nowadays who are quite unpresentable at tea, with their untrimmed laughs, their awful dispositions of their legs when they sit down, their slangy disrespect; they no longer smoke, it is true, like the girls of the eighties and nineties, nevertheless to a fine intelligence they have the flavor of tobacco. “I really do not believe,” he announced with satisfaction, “that any one would recognize me. In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake. She was nearly too giddy still to answer him.
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