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THE AUTHOR OF "TRIXIE"
to catch her unprepared would be sheerly barbarous; and who could say how she might react to it, what wild thing she might do in her despair at being given to understand that she was the wife of a novelist? He resolved to break it to her gently.
He found her washing her brushes at the hand-basin in the bath-room, for she was still a sufficiently young painter in-oils to tackle this tiresome duty the moment she had finished work for the day.
"Hallo, old jug," he began "Here you are then! I say, I've got some rather glorious news for you, you know. The fact is I've just extorted five hundred for a book from a publisher. How does that go down? Eh, how?"
"I don't believe it," said his wife simply.
