“Jason,” said Wolf, feeling a sudden qualm about Gerda, “why don’t you take my mother home? She’ll give you a splendid cup of tea⁠ ⁠… better than you could make for yourself at Pond Cottage⁠ ⁠… and I know there’ll be nobody in your house now. Mother, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? I know how well you two always get on.” He felt so impatient to be off, that he cared nothing for the effect of this suggestion upon either the poet or the lady. But Mrs. Solent looked not altogether displeased at this turn of events.

He hurried away now, avoiding any glance at Jason to discover how this prospect appealed to him. He had no difficulty in finding Gerda when he reached the field. She had not yet joined in any game, and it was quite easy to take her aside. She was in a mood of reserved apathy, neither apologetic nor defiant, just remote from the whole stream of events, and a little sad.

“Did you really hear all that about old Urquhart?” he asked her, anxious to distract her mind.