Henry had lately reviewed a book by Boltt for a daily paper, and he had expressed scorn for it and its stuffed dummies, masquerading as men and women ... and Boltt, who took himself very seriously indeed, had written a letter of complaint to the editor of the paper. Henry wondered what Boltt would say if he knew that the review had been written by him, and an imp in him made him interrupt the long recital of the glories of France. "The _Morning Report_ had a good go at your last novel, Boltt!" he said. The novelist looked reproachfully at Henry, as if he were rebuking him for indelicacy. "I never see the _Morning Report_," he replied loftily. "Oh, then, I suppose you didn't see the review. I thought you probably got clippings from a Press-cuttings agency!..." "Yes, oh, yes, I do. I seem to remember that the _Morning Report_ was unkind. Not quite fair, I should say!" Lord Jasper began to take an intelligent interest in the conversation. "Have you published another book, Boltt?" he asked innocently. "Yes ... a ... Lord Jasper ... I have!" Mr. Boltt said, and there was some sniffiness in his tones. He was accustomed to lengthy reviews on the day of publication, and it annoyed him to think that there was some one in the world, some one, too, with whom he was acquainted, who did not know that the publication of one of his books was an event. "I can't think how you writing chaps keep it up," said Jimphy. "I couldn't write a book to save my life!..." "No?" said Mr. Boltt, smiling in the way of one who says to himself, "God help you, my poor fellow, God help you!" "I suppose it's all a question of knack," Jimphy continued. "You get into the way of it and you can't stop. Sometimes a tune gets into my head and I have to keep on humming it or whistling it. I'm not what you'd call a sentimental fellow at all, but that song ... you know, about the honeysuckle and the bee ... I _could not_ get that song out of my head. I thought I should go cracked over it. Always humming it or whistling it ... and I suppose if you get an idea for a yarn into your head, Boltt, well, it's something like that!" Lady Cecily had exhausted the "chatter" of Mr. Lensley. "What's that!" she exclaimed. "Lord Jasper is describing the processes of literature to me, Lady Cecily," said Mr. Boltt sarcastically. "I have been greatly interested." The man's conceit irritated Henry and he longed to disconcert him. "Yes," he said. "It all began by my saying something about a review of Boltt's last novel in the _Morning Report!_ ..." Mr. Boltt made motions with his hands. "Really," he said, "Lady Cecily isn't in the least interested in my effusions." "Oh, but I am, Mr. Boltt," Lady Cecily interrupted. "What did the paper say? I'm sure it was very flattering!..." "The reviewer said that the book would probably please the vicar's only daughter, but that it wouldn't impose upon her when she grew up...." "Oh!" said Lady Cecily.