She bent her head above the white parchment-covered book⁠—it was really a form of ledger-book, that he had bought at the stationer’s in High Street, but he preferred it to a pile of loose sheets⁠—and when she lifted her face again, she had an expression exactly like a young archaic priestess.

“Next Saturday, then,” she said, “isn’t only your sister’s wedding-day! It’s the anniversary of your first coming to this room⁠ ⁠… of our first meeting.”

He made a second rather nervous movement towards her. But she repelled him by taking up the parchment-book again.

“I’m glad you went back to this,” she said thoughtfully. “I always had an instinct that Urquhart would do you some harm if you didn’t do what he wanted.”

Wolf laughed a forced laugh. “You unscrupulous little thing! What if Urquhart were the Devil⁠ ⁠… ought I to go back to him just the same?”