“ Eh bien ,” he said, “I congratulate you⁠—on your modesty!”

“Oh!” I said, rather taken aback.

“And on your reticence,” he added.

I said “Oh!” again.

“Not so did Hastings write,” continued my friend. “On every page, many, many times was the word ‘I.’ What he thought⁠—what he did. But you⁠—you have kept your personality in the background; only once or twice does it obtrude⁠—in scenes of home life, shall we say?”

I blushed a little before the twinkle of his eye.

“What do you really think of the stuff?” I asked nervously.