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Chapter 27

           "MayIcomeandtalktoyousometimes?"mywifesaidsuddenly,inherprettiestandmostpleadingvoice—"Itwouldbesuchaprivilege!"

           "Youcancomewheneveryoulikeintheafternoons,"—repliedMavisreadily—"ThemorningsbelongtoagoddessmoredominanteventhanBeauty;—Work!"

           "Youneverworkatnight?"Iasked.

           "Indeedno!IneverturntheordinancesofNatureupsidedown,asIamsureIshouldgettheworstofitifImadesuchanattempt.Thenightisforsleep—andIuseitthankfullyforthatblessedpurpose."

           "Someauthorscanonlywriteatnightthough,"Isaid.

           "Thenyoumaybesuretheyonlyproduceblurredpicturesandindistinctcharacterization,"saidMavis—"SomeIknowthereare,whoinviteinspirationthroughginoropium,aswellasthroughthemidnightinfluences,butIdonotbelieveinsuchmethods.Morning,andafreshlyrestedbrainarerequiredforliterarylabour—thatis,ifonewantstowriteabookthatwilllastformorethanone‘season.’"

           Sheaccompaniedustothegateandstoodundertheporch,herbigdogbesideher,andtheroseswavinghighoverherhead.

           "Atanyrateworkagreeswithyou,"—saidSibylfixinguponheralong,intent,almostenviousgaze—"Youlookperfectlyhappy."

           "Iamperfectlyhappy,"—sheanswered,smiling—"Ihavenothinginalltheworldtowishfor,exceptthatImaydieaspeacefullyasIhavelived."

           "Maythatdaybefardistant!"Isaidearnestly.

           Sheraisedhersoftmeditativeeyestomine.

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