"Good heavens! And do you know it now?"

He looked me full in the face, and there was an expression in his
eyes which puzzled me.

"I believe I do," he said; and, getting up, he crossed the room, put
the manuscript away in a drawer, and returning, sat down in the
window-seat again, looking out on the narrow, paved street below,
and at the grey buildings opposite.

I knew very well that he would never ask me what I thought of the
story--that was not his way.

"Derrick!" I exclaimed, watching his impassive face, "I believe
after all you are a genius."

I hardly know why I said "after all," but till that moment it had
never struck me that Derrick was particularly gifted. He had so far
got through his Oxford career creditably, but then he had worked
hard; his talents were not of a showy order. I had never expected
that he would set the Thames on fire. Even now it seemed to me that
he was too dreamy, too quiet, too devoid of the pushing faculty to
succeed in the world.

My remark made him laugh incredulously.

"Define a genius," he said.

For answer I pulled down his beloved Imperial Dictionary and read
him the following quotation from De Quincey: 'Genius is that mode