He answered her almost carelessly.
"Not what they are looking for.

Have you brought the paper and pencil you spoke of?
I have an idea--I am getting fresh ideas every moment now that I picture you as my heroine.

It is queer, isn't it, how naturally you fall into the role ?" She drew a little nearer to him.

He was conscious of a mysterious and unfamiliar perfume, perhaps from the violets half hidden in her furs, or was it something in her hair?
It reminded him a little of the world the keys into which he had gripped--the world of joyousness, of light-hearted pleasures, the sunlit world into which he had only looked through other men's eyes.
"Perhaps you knew that I was somewhere across the threshold," she suggested.

"Did you drag your Mona wholly from your brain, or has she her prototype somewhere in your world ?" He shook his head.
"Therein lies the weakness of all that I have ever written," he declared.
"There have been so few in my world from whom I could garner even the gleanings of a personality.