"But tonight I wanted to talk with you instead." She kept silent, in spite of this, so long now that Theron was on the point of jestingly asking when the talk was to begin.

Then she put a question abruptly-- "It is a conventional way of putting it, but are you fond of poetry, Mr.
Ware ?" "Well, yes, I suppose I am," replied Theron, much mystified.

"I can't say that I am any great judge; but I like the things that I like--and--" "Meredith," interposed Celia, "makes one of his women, Emilia in England, say that poetry is like talking on tiptoe; like animals in cages, always going to one end and back again.

Does it impress you that way ?" "I don't know that it does," said he, dubiously.

It seemed, however, to be her whim to talk literature, and he went on: "I've hardly read Meredith at all.