"Y--yes. Sometimes. And then sometimes I--I don't" (_with truth_).
"It's difficult to say. Sometimes I--er--SHAW--er--well, it's ----"
(_with a gesture somewhat Gallic_) "How can I put it?"

"Not THACKERAY at all?" he says, watching me eagerly.

I decide to risk it.

"Oh, but of course! I mean--THACKERAY! When I said MEREDITH I was
thinking of the _others_. But THACKERAY--I mean THACKERAY _is_--
er--" (_I've forgotten his name for the moment and go on hastily_) I
mean--er--THACKERAY, obviously."

He shakes me by the hand. I am his friend.

But this conversation only takes place in my more hopeful moments. In
my less hopeful ones I see myself going into the country for quite a
long time.

A.A.M.

* * * * *

ANOTHER IMPENDING APOLOGY.

"The book contains a portrait of the author and several other
quaint illustrations."--_Daily Paper_.

* * * * *