Wolf sighed wearily. “I’ve been envying you, you irresponsible monk.” He turned his head and surveyed the result of Mr. Valley’s labour. A small path had been made free of weeds along the edge of the great overgrown drive.

“People won’t follow your path, Valley, even if you carry it to the gate. They’ll just walk straight up the middle.”

Disregarding this remark, the clergyman screwed up his eyes as if thinking of some important matter. Then he leaned forward and said gravely:

“By the way, Solent, do you know any literary people in London?”

Wolf surveyed him in astonishment.

“Yes, a few,” he said.