"She'd have her suspicions, I think. I asked you just now whether you really must go to London, Arthur."
"Well, I don't want to—though I've a slight touch of that disease of Godfrey's myself—but I suppose I ought. It's like this." He told her of the lost chance at chambers, and of Joe Halliday's summons. "It's no use going to-day," he ended, "but I expect I ought to go to-morrow."
"Yes, I expect you ought," she agreed gravely. "You mustn't miss chances because of—because of us down here."
"It isn't obvious that I'm any particular sort of use down here, is it?"
"You're of use to me anyhow, Arthur."
"To you?" He was evidently surprised at this aspect of the case.
"Yes, but you weren't thinking of me, were you? However, you are. Things aren't always easy here, as you may have observed, and it's a great comfort to have someone to help—someone to grumble to or—or to share a smile with, you know."
"That's very nice of you. You know I've always supposed you thought me rather an ass."
"Oh, in some ways, yes, of course you are!" She laughed, but not at all unpleasantly. "I should have liked to have you here through—well, through Sir Oliver."
"The chap's a bit of a nuisance, isn't he? Well, I needn't make up my mind till to-morrow. It's no use going to-day, and to-morrow's Saturday. So Sunday for the piece, and chambers on Monday! That'd be all right—especially as I've probably lost my only chance. I'll wait till to-morrow, and see how Sir Oliver shapes!" He ended with a laugh as his mind went back to Godfrey. "Gone to bed, poor old chap!"