But, oh, how hard it was to do it! He thought of Gerda’s longing for the pots and pans, the silver spoons, the carpet, the kitchen-clock. He thought intensely of his own desire for a dozen bottles of Three Peewits gin. Damn it all! The whole idea of giving it back was fantastic and superstitious. Yes, that’s what it was⁠—superstitious. And it was pure selfishness too. Gerda was doing everything for him⁠—what right had he to rob her of their earnings? Those quiet evenings she’d given him for the last two months were what had finished the job.

“They’ve asked me to send them another volume of my writings,” remarked Jason suddenly. “What do you two advise me to say I’ve got to have, before I send it? Darnley thinks a hundred pounds wouldn’t be too much.”

“Two hundred,” murmured the Squire, with a sly glance at Wolf.

“Let’s have your opinion, Solent,” continued Jason. “You’re one of these cunning dogs who know what’s what!”

In a flash Wolf had jumped to his feet.