there, for instance!
You have poured your coffee outside the cup. Of course you can do as
you like, but the usual custom is to pour it inside the cup."

They both laughed, and the good understanding between them was cemented
again.

"You are certainly getting better," he said suddenly. "I should not be
surprised if you were able to write a book after all. Not that a new
book is wanted. There are too many books as it is; and not enough people
to dust them. Still, it is not probable that you would be considerate
enough to remember that. You will write your book."

Bernardine shook her head.

"I don't seem to care now," she said. "I think I could now be content
with a quieter and more useful part."

"You will write your book," he continued. "Now listen to me. Whatever
else you may do, don't make your characters hold long discussions with
each other. In real life, people do not talk four pages at a time
without stopping. Also, if you bring together two clever men, don't make
them talk cleverly. Clever people do not. It is only the stupid who
think they must talk cleverly all the time. And don't detain your reader
too long: if you must have a sunset, let it be a short one. I could give
you many more hints which would be useful to you."

"But why not use your own hints for yourself?" she suggested.

"That would be selfish of me," he said solemnly. "I wish you to profit
by them."

"You are learning to be unselfish at a very rapid rate," Bernardine said.

At that moment Mrs. Reffold came into the breakfast-room, and, seeing
Bernardine, gave her a stiff bow.

"I thought you and Mrs. Reffold were such friends," Robert Allitsen said.

Bernardine then told him of her last interview with Mrs. Reffold.

"Well, if you feel uncomfortable, it is as it should be," he said. "I
don't see what business you had to point out to Mrs. Reffold her duty.
I dare say she knows it quite well though she may not choose to do it.
I am sure I should resent it, if any one pointed out my duty to me.
Every one knows his own duty. And it is his own affair whether or not
he does it."

"I wonder if you are right," Bernardine said. "I never meant to presume;
but her indifference had exasperated me."

"Why should you be exasperated about other people's affairs?" he said.
"And why interfere at all?"

"Being interested is not the same as being interfering," she replied
quickly.

"It is difficult to be the one without being the other," he said.