How happy you must be!" "I am," said Celia.

"But go on, tell me about your novel; what kind of a novel is it to be ?" "Do you remember my telling you, that afternoon at the A.B.C.shop, how, if ever I got a chance, I meant to go in for character, psychology?
Good word, psychology! Well, I've got my chance, and I'm going for it bald-headed.

Since I saw you, I have been studying Lavater; the physiognomy man, you know--wonderful book!--and I've been fitting imaginary histories to everybody, man or woman, I've met." "I used to do that," said Celia, dreamily; and back came Brown's Buildings.
"Yes?
Of course, one may make an awfully bad shot sometimes; but I'm inclined to think that, as a rule, one is pretty accurate.

I mean, that you can judge the character of a man from his face--not so often that of a woman, because she's more difficult, she knows how to mask her feelings----" "Thank you," interjected Celia.
"Oh, you know what I mean! She's been the slave of the man for centuries, and she's been obliged to deceive him." "Thank you very, _very_ much!" "Oh, but she's getting past that, now; she's coming into her own, whatever that may prove to be; and presently she'll go about with an open countenance, and it may be easier for me to study her." "It's to be a detective story, I suppose ?" said Celia.
"Right the first go off!" he assented, admiringly.

"Yes; but something out of the ordinary, I hope.