ell into situations which were
extremely compromising in the eyes of a censorious world, but they were
never completely compromised. The whole world knew, before the
conclusion of the story, that the heroine had been falsely suspected. If
she had spent the night in the hero's bedroom, she had done so with the
best intentions, under the strictest chaperonage ... usually that of her
dear, devoted old nurse, God bless her!... whose presence in the bedroom
had been hidden, until the middle of the penultimate chapter, from the
heroine's friends and relatives. The hero, of course, poor, manly,
broken giant, had been ill, suffering from a fever, and in his delirium
had called for her, discontent until she had put her cool firm hand upon
his hot brow, and the doctor had said that if she would stay with him,
she would save his life. So she had flung her reputation to the winds
and had hurried to his bedroom.... It was pretentious, flatulent stuff,
through which a thin stream of tepid lust trickled so gently that it
seemed like a stream of pretty sentiment, and it was written with such
cleverness that young ladies in Bath and Cheltenham and Atlantic City,
U.S.A., were tricked into believing that this was Life ... Real Life....

Lensley and Boltt followed Jimphy eagerly to Lady Cecily's table.
Lensley was glad to sit with her: Boltt was glad to be certain of his
supper. Lensley enjoyed listening to Cecily's babble because he could
always be certain of getting something out of her speech that would just
fit into his next novel: Boltt liked his contiguity to members of the
governing class. They completely ignored Henry after they had been
introduced to him.

"Mr. Quinn is writing a novel, too!" said Lady Cecily.

"Oh, yes!" said Lensley.

"Indeed!" Boltt burbled.

Thereafter they addressed themselves exclusively to Lady Cecily and her
husband. Lensley told Lady Cecily that she was to be the heroine of his
next book. "I'm studying you now, dear Lady Cecily!" he said. "Jotting
you down in my little book ... all your little plaguey ways and
speeches!..."

"How awfully exciting!" she replied, and her eyes seemed to become
brighter, and she leant towards the novelist as if she meant to reveal
herself more clearly to him.

"You'll be angry with me when you see the book," he said. "Dreadfully
angry. You know poor Mrs. Maldon was very hurt about '_Jennifer_'!" Mrs.
Maldon was the wife of the Cabinet Minister.

"I shan't mind what