And she looked
strangely upon Mr. Nicholas Jelnik.
"No? Thank you. I was in doubt," murmured Mr. Jelnik. The golden
flecks danced in and out of his eyes. "But we were speaking of The
Author: may I ask how The Author appeals to you as a human being,
Miss Hopkins?"
"I do not know him as a human being," Miss Hopkins admitted.
Mr. Jelnik looked surprised. His eyebrows went up.
"Oh, come, now!" he demurred. "He isn't so bad as all _that_!"
"Oh, dear me, no!" Alicia protested, in a shocked voice. "He may
have abrupt manners and say unexpected things, but he is perfectly
respectable, Miss Hopkins! There's never been a _breath_ against his
character. I thought you knew," purred the hussy, demurely. "Why,
he's dined at the White House, and lunched and motored and yachted
with royalties, and lectured before the D.A.R.'s themselves! And he
belongs to at least a dozen societies. There are,"--Alicia was
enjoying her naughty self immensely--"good authors and bad authors.
Sometimes the bad authors are good, and sometimes the good authors
are bad. But our author is more than either: he's It!"
"You entirely and strangely misunderstand me.
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