? ? ? ? She acknowledged her identity with a nod. It was Wolf Larsen's turn to be puzzled. The name and its magic signified nothing to him. I was proud that it did mean something to me, and for the first time in a weary while I was convincingly conscious of a superiority over him.
? ? ? ? 'I remember writing a review of a thin little volume-' I had begun carelessly, when she interrupted me.
? ? ? ? 'You!' she cried. 'You are-'
? ? ? ? She was now staring at me in wide-eyed wonder.
? ? ? ? I nodded my identity, in turn.
? ? ? ? 'Humphrey Van Weyden,' she concluded; then added, with a sigh of relief and unaware that she had glanced that relief at Wolf Larsen, 'I am so glad.'
? ? ? ? 'I remember the review,' she went on hastily, becoming aware of the awkwardness of her remark, 'that too, too flattering review.'
? ? ? ? 'Not at all,' I denied valiantly. 'You impeach my sober judgment and make my canons of little worth, Besides, all my brother critics were with me.
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