The moment had arrived when he told himself that, having taken all things into consideration, he had done with the girl.
Yes; he had done with this Olwen.
What was meant by this could only be judged by subsequent events. One cannot but surmise that it meant the following:
To come to that office on Monday and, as usual, to treat her as part of the office furniture. To speak to her as usual with the charm of manner of a bear with a sore head. To glower at her as usual in the Strand if she passed him with young Ellerton. To have lunch on Friday as usual at that restaurant where she had lunch and, still as usual, to spar and wrangle with her until it was time to get back to work. To meet her as usual at Mrs. Cartwright's; to meet her perhaps with her friend Mrs. Awdas; to——well, to carry on in the usual way, as he had done up to now, and so, indefinitely, to continue....
"Yes! I've done with her," he meditated aloud in the solitude of whatever place it was in which he found himself. The sound of his own voice pronouncing these resolute words was balm to his irritated, exasperated mood. "I've done with her. That's sett——"
Into the word there broke the shrill whirring call of the telephone.
He snapped it up. The silence of the place where he sat seemed to ring to the now irritated bark of his voice, answering.
"Spikkin'! Who is that?"
"Ell—what? Oh, Ellerton? Yes; what is it?" He listened, scowling, to the clear boyish voice that came through, obviously in the joyous high feather. "Oh, yes; I know the raid's over, yes.... Nothing of consequence; nothing at all.... You saw what? Miss Howel-Jones home safely? That's all?... You were held up? Is that so? Where? For how——For two hours, was it? All the lights turned out, I suppose?... Indid.... Ah.... Well! I don't know that I was worrying specially about either of you; not so as you'd notice it. But thanks all the same for reassuring me, Ellerton——"
(This with the bitter sarcasm which, the Celt maintains, is ever lost upon the Saxon.)