“Gerda has been a bit surprised,” he said at last, observing that Darnley was growing impatient to be off, “that a friend like Christie hasn’t been in to see us more often.”

His companion freed his sleeve from the nervous clutch with which Wolf quite unconsciously had seized it.

“That’s silly of Gerda,” he said curtly. “She ought to understand Christie better than that. Christie never goes out to see people. People have to come and see her . Look here, Solent”⁠—and as he spoke, a gleam of boyish eagerness came into his face⁠—“why don’t you run back home now, have a bit of lunch, and then both you and Gerda come round to Christie’s? I’ll tell her you’re coming. She’ll keep some hot chocolate for you. She makes splendid hot chocolate.”

Wolf hesitated. “We’ve got my mother coming to tea,” he said. “And perhaps someone else too,” he added, thinking of Mrs. Torp.