I felt that it was a clew.
"What new novel or philosophical wonder have you both been poring
over?" I asked quite gayly, stealthily watching at the same time
the telltale embarrassment under which Elsie was laboring.
Brake, who was not in the least discomposed, replied. "That," said
he, "is a secret which must be kept from you. It is an advance
copy, and is not to be shown to anyone except your wife."
"Ha!" cried I, "I know what it is. It is your volume of poems that
Ticknor is publishing. Well, I can wait until it is regularly for
sale."
I knew that Brake had a volume in the hands of the publishing house
I mentioned, with a vague promise of publication some time in the
present century. Hammond smiled significantly, but did not reply.
He evidently wished to cultivate this supposed impression of mine.
Elsie looked relieved, and heaved a deep sigh. I felt more than
ever convinced that a secret was beneath all this. So I drew my
chair over the fallen leaf that lay unnoticed on the carpet, and
talked and laughed with Hammond Brake gayly, as if nothing was on
my mind, while all the time a great load of suspicion lay heavily
at my heart.
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