Как мы писали роман

no one knew where he was. A party went in search of him. The others, too unnerved to go back into the ballroom, crowded outside the door and listened. They could hear the steady whir of the wheels upon the polished floor, as the thing spun round and round; the dull thud as every now and again it dashed itself and its burden against some opposing object and ricocheted off in a new direction. "And everlastingly it talked in that thin ghostly voice, repeating over and over the same formula: 'How charming you are looking to-night. What a lovely day it has been. Oh, don't be so cruel. I could go on dancing for ever--with you. Have you had supper?' "Of course they sought for Geibel everywhere but where he was. They looked in every room in the house, then they rushed off in a body to his own place, and spent precious minutes in waking up his deaf old housekeeper. At last it occurred to one of the party that Wenzel was missing also, and then the idea of the counting-house across the yard presented itself to them, and there they found him. "He rose up, very pale, and followed them; and he and old Wenzel forced their way through the crowd of guests gathered outside, and entered the room, and locked the door behind them. "From within there came the muffled sound of low voices and quick steps, followed by a confused scuffling noise, then silence, then the low voices again. "After a time the door opened, and those near it pressed forward to enter, but old Wenzel's broad shoulders barred the way. "'I want you--and you, Bekler,' he said, addressing a couple of the elder men. His voice was calm, but his face was deadly white. 'The rest of you, please go--get the women away as quickly as you can.' "From that day old Nicholaus Geibel confined himself to the making of mechanical rabbits and cats that mewed and washed their faces." We agreed that the moral of MacShaughnassy's story was a good one. CHAPTER XII
How much more of our--fortunately not very valuable--time we devoted to this wonderful novel of ours, I cannot exactly say.	Я не могу сказать точно, сколько еще нашего - к счастью, не слишком драгоценного - времени посвятили мы своему замечательному роману.
Turning the dogs'- eared leaves of the dilapidated diary that lies before me, I find the record of our later gatherings confused and incomplete.	Перелистывая загнувшиеся на уголках страницы этого растрепанного дневника, я вижу, что отчеты о последних собраниях были беспорядочными и неполными.
For weeks there does not appear a single word.	Проходит несколько недель без единой записи.
Then comes an alarmingly business-like minute of a meeting at which there were--"Present: Jephson, MacShaughnassy, Brown, and Self"; and at which the "Proceedings commenced at 8.30."	Затем следует устрашающее деловое собрание, на котором присутствовали Джефсон, Мак-Шонесси, Браун и я, и которое было "открыто в 8:30 вечера".