Wolf drew his heavy eyebrows down so low that his startled gaze gleamed out at his companion like lantern-light from a thatched shed. “I⁠ ⁠… don’t⁠ ⁠… suppose so,” he muttered hesitatingly.

The truth was that Darnley’s suggestion had set something vibrating violently deep down within him, like the thuds of a buried drum played by an earth-gnome. So this was what things had been tending to since he had caught sight of that laburnum-branch?

Darnley smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

“Don’t say any more,” he cried. “I see you don’t want to come. Well! Off with you, then⁠ ⁠… back to your Saxon beauty. Christie’s expecting me, anyway.”

But Wolf held him with an appeal in his eye.

“It’s only that Gerda and I have got special things to do today,” he said. “Under ordinary conditions I’d have loved to come.”