"Well, old man, not so bad? Of course, they don't come up to Kipling, but I can't say that I'm fearfully keen on Kipling, old thing. That little one about the sunset, I think, is rather a gem."
"I think you're rather a gem," said Hamilton, handing back the proofs. "Bones, you've behaved abominably, writing poetry of that kind and leaving it about. You're going to make this girl the laughing-stock of London."
"Laughing-stock?" snorted the annoyed Bones. "What the dickens do you mean, old thing? I told you there are no comic poems. They're all like that."
"I was afraid they were," said Hamilton. "But poems needn't be comic," he added a little more tactfully, as he saw Bones's colour rising, "they needn't be comic to excite people's amusement. The most solemn and sacred things, the most beautiful thoughts, the most wonderful sentiments, rouse the laughter of the ignorant."
"True, true," agreed Bones graciously. "And I rather fancy that they are a little bit on the most beautiful side, my jolly old graven image. All heart outpourings you understand--but no, you wouldn't understand, my old crochety one. One of these days, as I've remarked before, they will be read by competent judges ... midnight oil, dear old thing--at least, I have electric light in my flat. They're generally done after dinner."
"After a heavy dinner, I should imagine," said Hamilton with asperity. "What are you going to do about it, Bones?"
"Shall I tell you what you must do?" asked Hamilton quietly.
"Certainly, Ham, my wise old counsellor," said the cheerful Bones. "Certainly, by all means, Why not?"
"You must go to Miss Whitland and tell her all about it."
"Good Heavens, no!" he gasped. "Don't be indelicate, Ham! Why, she might never forgive me, dear old thing! Suppose she walked out of the office in a huff? Great Scotland! Great Jehoshaphat! It's too terrible to contemplate!"
"You must tell her," said Hamilton firmly. "It's only fair to the girl to know exactly what is hanging over her."
Bones pleaded, and offered a hundred rapid solutions, none of which were acceptable to the relentless Hamilton.
"I'll tell her myself, if you like," he said. "I could explain that they're just the sort of things that a silly ass of a man does, and that they were not intended to be offensive--even that one about her lips being like two red strips. Strips of what--carpet?"