The illuminated lamp threw its light upon Gerda’s face as she resumed her seat.

“What would you describe as your purpose, Bob?” he went on, thinking to himself: “She’s gone through something that’s startled and shocked her⁠ ⁠… or she’s made up her mind to go through it. She’s not the same Gerda that I left this morning with her face drenched with crying.”

Bob Weevil rose to his feet. “My purpose is to get home to supper,” he said. “I told Dad last night that it was to serve my God, and he told me not to be so cheeky⁠ ⁠… so you see he’s not such a fool after all, the funny old chap!”

Gerda displayed no emotion of any kind on Weevil’s departure. As soon as the door was shut upon him, Wolf produced Mr. Urquhart’s cheque and pressed it into her fingers. “You shall have your clock and your carpet and your spoons; and everything else, honey,” he whispered, clutching her by the wrist.