The whole thing is in a nutshell," a sly humor creeping into his eyes.

"I am tired of writing ephemeral things.

I want to write something that will last." "Write your epitaph, Jack," drawled a deep voice from the reading table.

"That's the only sure way, and even that is no good if your marble is spongy." "Oh, Cathewe, this is not your funeral," retorted the editor.
"Perhaps not.

All the same, I'll be chief mourner if Jack takes up novel writing.