"Do you pigeon-hole bills and money-lenders' circulars and second-hand booksellers' catalogues and all their wrappers ?" He folded up the letter, took me by the arm and regarded me with a smile of forced patience.
"My dear Hilary, can't you ever understand that this room is just a workshop and nothing else?
Here I think of nothing but my novel.

I would as soon think of conducting my social correspondence in the bathroom.

If you want to see the waste-paper basket where I throw my bills and unanswered letters from duchesses, and the desk--I share it with Doria--where I dash off my brilliant replies to money-lenders, come into the drawing-room.

There, also, I shall be able to give you a drink." My eyes, following an unconscious glance from his, fell upon a new and hitherto unnoticed object--a little table, now startlingly obvious, in a corner of the all but unfurnished room, bearing a tray with half full decanter, syphon and glass.
"You've got all I want here," said I.
"No.

That's mere stimulant.