She asked Blaney his opinion of a certain poem.
"Oh, that," and the man hesitated, "well, you see,--I--ah,--that is, I'm reserving my opinion as to that man's work,--yes, reserving my opinion." "And a good idea, too," agreed Nan.

"One shouldn't judge, hastily.
But you've doubtless made up your mind regarding this poet," and she picked up a book from the table, containing the poems of another modern and much discussed writer.
"Oh, yes," said Blaney, "oh, yes, of course.

But, if you'll excuse me, Mrs.Fairfield, I'd rather not announce my views.

You see, I--er--that is,--I might be quoted wrongly,--misquoted, you know, and it would militate against my influence,--yes,--militate against my standing.
One must be so careful." "Indeed you are right," Nan said, smiling at him; "a poet yourself, you must be careful of what you say about others." "Yes, just that.

How quickly you understand." Patty and her escort went away, and after a short silence, Blaney said, "You didn't show Mrs.Fairfield the verses I wrote for you, did you ?" "No," said Patty, "I promised you I wouldn't." "And I didn't mean to doubt your word, but I thought you might think that your mother--or stepmother, didn't count." "No, I haven't shown them to any one.