He collapsed in a chair, his head buried in his hands.
Half-an-hour later the clerk came in to say that the messenger was still waiting.
“Sit down,” said Luke.
The clerk sat down for half-an-hour. Luke still meditated. Then the office boy came in to fetch the clerk. It was necessary to do something, to decide at once. His promise to Mabel had been quite definite. He would bring back the spring-cleaning requisites on his bicycle that evening. There had been a sardonic cruelty in sending him to purchase the materials for his own torture. Still, he had promised.
Drawing a sheet of the firm’s paper with the memo. head on it towards him, he wrote as follows:
“Jona: I can’t get away to elope with you to-day. My wife won’t let me. If you are still of the same mind on Saturday, the train I shall take for Brighton leaves Victoria at eleven.”
He sent the letter down to the messenger, and then Diggle entered.
“Do you want to see me about the partnership?” said Sharper.
“No. I wanted to see you about the full-page advertisement for the ‘Church Times.’ Have you written it?”
“I’ve not, so to speak, written it.”