“I’ve agreed to finish Urquhart’s book,” he said, “and he’s paid me in advance. But the chances are that I’ll have to lend this money to Mother. Anyhow, I’m not going to think about it tonight. I’ll wrap it round Jason’s idol for the present⁠ ⁠… then you won’t want to meddle with it any more than I do!”

Saying this, he opened the dresser-drawer with a jerk and thrust Mr. Urquhart’s cheque under the stomach of the prostrate god of rain.

Though he did all this with an air of careless decision, it was with several anxious side-glances that he scanned Gerda’s face as he washed his hands in the little tin basin.