I had to put a strong constraint on myself, or I should have
communicated all that was passing in my mind to William before
our friends at the farmhouse. But I knew it was best to wait
until we were alone, and I did wait. What a relief it was when we
all got up at last to say good-night!

The moment we were in our own room, I could not stop to take so
much as a pin out of my dress before I began. "My dear," said I,
"I never heard you tell that gambling-house adventure so well
before. What an effect it had upon our friends! what an effect,
indeed, it always has wherever you tell it!"

So far he did not seem to take much notice. He just nodded, and
began to pour out some of the lotion in which he always bathes
his poor eyes the last thing at night.

"And as for that, William," I went on, "all your stories seem to
interest people. What a number you have picked up, first and
last, from different sitters, in the fifteen years of your
practice as a portrait-painter! Have you any idea how many
stories you really do know?"

No: he could not undertake to say how many just then. He gave
this answer in a very indifferent tone, dabbing away all the time
at his eyes with the sponge and lotion. He did it so awkwardly
and roughly, as it seemed to me, that I took the sponge from him
and applied the lotion tenderly myself.

"Do you think," said I, "if you turned over one of your stories
carefully in your mind beforehand--say the one you told to-night,