Her eyes had been making their usual running commentary on the conversation, quick blue flashes, grave or merry or reassuring, that always spoke to Nikolai more clearly than her words. But presently he noticed in them a return of the preoccupation, the vague dreaminess, that had been about her when she first appeared. "Your mind is at that typewriter," he accused her suddenly. "Of course it is," complained Archie. "She'd be at the thing all day long, if I didn't drag her out in the fields occasionally to work!" "Archie thinks writing is not work," she interpolated, "merely an elegant way of passing a lady's leisure, like embroidery or crocheting!--But I'm not always as bad as this, Stefan," she apologized. "It's just that a crisis is on the way, and thoughts seem to come faster than I can get them down.--Luckily for you I've got a public now to spill them onto, instead of you!" "Do you find the public as responsive?" "_Does_ she!" cried the proud husband. "Letters in every mail, and requests for autographs--why, she's a public character! The other day in a street-car--Tell him what happened the other day in the street-car, Joan." She pulled his hair, laughing. "Ain't I the most wonder-fullest boy?--Well, the other day in a street-car, Stefan, a perfectly strange man came up to me and said, 'Aren't you the Mrs. Blair who writes? Say, what business have _you_ got knowing how scared a man is of his grown son? You're only a girl.'" "I congratulate you," said Nikolai. "Yes, that is response. Taking the world into your circle of intimates--that is the thing that makes the game worth while for people like you and me." "Don't include me with yourself," she protested in quick deprecation. "I'm not and never shall be 'literary.' Human nature is all I'm after, Stefan. Villains who won't stay villains; heroes with fatal flaws of character; good, fine, noble natures who spread havoc all about 'em--that's the sort of thing I want to do; never 'literature'!" He smiled, nodding. "Spoken like a true Cobzar!--But at that rate you'll find it difficult to escape literature, my dear." He rose to leave, against protests. "No, no, I have no intention of sharing honors with a Climax. Let me come back to-morrow, when the crisis is out of her system. I know how that is!" "You always know how things are," murmured Joan gratefully, pressing his hand.... Archie walked with him to the car-station. "You think she's looking well, sir?" he asked as soon as they were out of earshot. "Better than well, Blair. Content." The husband sighed with satisfaction. "I think so myself--though of course it's the kid who's done that, not me--Mr. Nikolai, I've got to talk to you on business. How big a hurry are you in for that money you lent me?" "None at all," answered the other pleasantly. "I've accumulated a good deal of moss for such a rolling-stone--a racial trait, perhaps! Take your time. You've already paid me more than half, I think."