One afternoon, as I was seated at my table, my head resting on my hands, he entered my apartment; sitting down, he inquired of me why I had not been to see him.
"I might ask the same question of you," I replied.

"Wherefore have you not been to see me ?" Whereupon Francis Ardry told me that he had been much engaged in his oratorical exercises, also in escorting the young Frenchwoman about to places of public amusement; he then again questioned me as to the reason of my not having been to see him.
I returned an evasive answer.

The truth was, that for some time past my appearance, owing to the state of my finances, had been rather shabby; and I did not wish to expose a fashionable young man like Francis Ardry, who lived in a fashionable neighbourhood, to the imputation of having a shabby acquaintance.

I was aware that Francis Ardry was an excellent fellow; but, on that very account, I felt, under existing circumstances, a delicacy in visiting him.
It is very possible that he had an inkling of how matters stood, as he presently began to talk of my affairs and prospects.

I told him of my late ill success with the booksellers, and inveighed against their blindness to their own interest in refusing to publish my translations.
"The last that I addressed myself to," said I, "told me not to trouble him again, unless I could bring him a decent novel or a tale." "Well," said Frank, "and why did you not carry him a decent novel or a tale ?" "Because I have neither," said I; "and to write them is, I believe, above my capacity.