"Is he a nuisance with his talk about his drama?"

Mr. Wright said, looking across at her with open eagerness in his
melancholy eyes.

"Why, no indeed."

"Do you think it's so very bad, considering?"

"It is not bad at all," said Mrs. Richie.

His face lighted like a child's. "Young fool! As if he could write a
drama! Well, madam, I came to ask you to do me the honor of taking
supper with me to-morrow night, and then of listening to this
wonderful production. Of course, sir, I include you. My nigger will
provide you with a fairly good bottle. Then this grandson of mine will
read his truck aloud. But we will fortify ourselves with supper
first."

His artless pride in planning this distressing festivity was so
ludicrous that Lloyd Pryor's disgust changed into involuntary mirth.
But Helena was plainly nervous. "Thank you; you are very kind; but I
am afraid I must say no."

Mr. Pryor was silently retreating towards the dining-room. As for the
visitor, he only had eyes for the mistress of the house.

"Why should you say no?"

She tried to answer lightly. "Oh, I like to be quiet."