“What a detached little thing she is,” he thought; and the memory came over him, with a rush of wild self-pity, of all they had whispered together in that cornfield. “I’ve never told her about my ‘mythology’⁠ ⁠… but she ought to know, she ought to know what that two hundred means!”

“Well, I must run back. Olwen will have finished her tea.” And she tightened her hold upon the cake and made a little movement to draw her arm away. But Wolf burst out then with a final impulse of desperation:

“It was a vile job. It’s a vile production to be paid all that for! He’s printing it in Bristol now . It’ll just suit your father’s clients! How do you think I’ll appear to myself after this, Christie?”

The girl tossed her head proudly. “Oh, the clients!” she cried. “You’re extremely moral tonight, Wolf! I daresay you thought my book would please the clients!”