When I got on board the steamer at Calais I saw Lewis Day, who writes
books about decoration, and began to talk with him. Also I saw A. B.,
Editor of the _X.Y.Z. Review_. I met him some years ago at Phipson
Beale’s, but we do not speak. Recently I wanted him to let me write an
article in his review and he would not, so I was spiteful and, when I saw
him come on board, said to Day:
“I see we are to have the Editor of the _X.Y.Z._ on board.”
“Yes,” said Day.
“He’s an owl,” said I sententiously.
“I wonder,” said Day, “how he got the editorship of his review?”
“Oh,” said I, “I suppose he married some one.”
On this the conversation dropped, and we parted. Later on we met again
and Day said:
“Do you know who that lady was—the one standing at your elbow when we
were talking just now?”
“No,” said I.
“That,” he replied, “was Mrs. A. B.”
And it was so.