Some years ago I met my old master, Sir Frank Benson-he was Mr. F. R. Benson then-and he asked me in his friendly way what I had been doing lately. "I am just finishing a book," I replied, "a book that everybody will hate." "As usual," said the Don Quixote of our English stage-if I knew any nobler title to bestow upon him, I would, bestow it-"as usual; running your head against a stone wall!"