He was a ship with a fair wind, which he valued
the more for the belts of calms and the adverse weather through which he
had passed and must inevitably pass again; for the moment he was a happy
man, though one with no illusion as to the present product of his
teeming pen.
"It is nonsense," he said to Rachel, in answer to a question from that
new and sympathetic friend, "but it is not such nonsense as to seem
nothing else when one's in the act of perpetrating it, and what more can
one want? It had to be done by the tenth of August, and by Jove it will
be! A few weeks ago I didn't think it possible; but the summer has
thawed my ink."
"Are you sure it isn't Mrs. Steel?" asked one of the Venables girls,
who had also ridden over on their bicycles. "I heard you had a
tremendously literary conversation when you dined with us."
"We had, indeed!" said Langholm, with enthusiasm. "And Mrs. Steel gave
me one of the best ideas I ever had in my life; that's another reason
why I'm racing through this rubbish--to take it in hand."
It was Sybil to whom he was speaking, but at this point Rachel plunged
into the conversation with the sister, Vera, which required an effort,
since the elder Miss Venables was a young lady who had cultivated
languor as a sign of breeding and sophistication.
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