'I think I see,' she remarked,
'Is there anything wrong?' I asked anxiously.
'N-no,' said Dolly, 'not exactly wrong. In fact, I rather think I like that last bit best. Still, don't you think?'
She rose, came round the table, took up the pen, and put it back in my hand.
'What's this for?' I asked.
'To correct the mistake,' said Dolly.
'Do you really think so?' said I.
'I'm afraid so,' said Dolly.
I took the pen and made a certain alteration. Dolly took up the album. '"Are unanimous,"' she read, '"in encouraging all others to seek a similar privilege." Yes, you meant that, you know, Mr. Carter.'
'I suppose I must have,' said I, rather sulkily.
'The other was nonsense,' urged Dolly.
'Oh, utter nonsense,' said I.
'And you had to write the truth!'
'Yes, I had to write some of it.'
'And nonsense can't be the truth, can it, Mr. Carter?'
'Of course it can't, Lady Mickleham.'
'Where are you going, Mr. Carter?' she asked; for I rose from my chair.
'To have a quiet smoke,' said I.
'Alone?' asked Dolly.
'Yes, alone,' said I.
I walked towards the door. Dolly stood by the table fingering the album. I had almost reached the door; then I happened to look round.
