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Chapter 12

           IndeedIhaveneverseenamoreidealpoet’scornerthanLilyCottage."

           Iwassilent,feelingsomewhatinthebackgroundonaccountofmyignoranceastothegiftsandthepositionoftheindividualtheyallseemedtorecognizeasacelebrityofimportance.

           "Ratheranoddname,Mavis,isn’tit?"—Iatlastventuredtoobserve.

           "Yes—butitsuitsherwonderfully.Shesingsquiteassweetlyasanythrush,soshemeritsherdesignation."

           "Whathasshedoneinliterature?"Icontinued.

           "Oh—onlyanovel!"repliedLuciowithasmile—"Butithasaqualityunusualtonovels;itlives!Ihope,Tempest,thatyourforthcomingworkwillenjoythesamevitality."

           HereLordEltonwhohadbeenmoreorlessbroodingdarklyoverhisglassofwineeversinceIhadmentionedmypurchaseofWillowsmere,rousedhimselffromhisreverie.

           "Why,Godblessmysoul!"heexclaimed—"Youdon’tmeantotellmeyouhavewrittenanovelMrTempest?"(Wasitpossiblehehadnevernoticedalltheprominentadvertisementsofmybookineverypaper,Ithoughtindignantly!)"Whatdoyouwanttodothatfor,withyourimmenseposition?"

           "Hehankersafterfame!"saidLuciohalfkindly,halfsatirically.

           "Butyou’vegotfame!"declaredtheEarlemphatically—"Everybodyknowswhoyouarebythistime."

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