Manchurian Books

"
"Desk!" she said, with her jaw drooping.
"I am writing now," I said. "I need a lot of ink, and
paper, and a good Lamp. Let them keep the Blue room, Hannah, for
their selfish purposes. I shall be happy in my work. I need
nothing more."
"Writing!" said Hannah. "Is it a book you're writing?"
"A Play."
"Listen to the child! A Play!"
I sat on the edge of the bed.
"Listen, Hannah," I said. "It is not what is outside of us
that matters. It is what is inside. It is what we are, not what
we eat, or look like, or wear. I have given up everything,
Hannah, to my Career."
"You're young yet," said Hannah. "You used to be fond
enough of the Boys."
Hannah has been with us for years, so she gets rather
talkey at times, and has to be sat upon.
"I care nothing whatever for the Other Sex," I replied
hautily.
She was opening my suitcase at the time, and I was
surveying the chamber which was to be the seen of my Literary
Life, at least for some time.
"Now and then," I said to Hannah, "I shall read you parts
of it. Only you mustn't run and tell mother.


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