“That’s all right. There’ll be plenty of time for that. It’s not half-past two, anyway. Do go off now, there’s a good chap; and be sure you bring Gerda.”

Wolf remained silent, uncertain, ill at ease, tapping the ground with his stick.

“All right,” he said at last. “I’ll do as you say. We shan’t be long over our lunch, that’s certain. But make it plain to Christie that we’re only coming for a very short time. Tell her we’ve got to get back to tea. That’ll reassure her,” he added sardonically, “if we get on her nerves.”

“Don’t be an ass, Solent,” was his friend’s farewell-remark as they turned to go their different ways.

It took Wolf as a rule exactly twenty minutes to walk from the Grammar School gate to his own door; but this time he lengthened the way by debouching into Monmouth Street, where there were no shops and scarcely any traffic.