"You've chosen the smallest thing of the lot," said the disappointed donor. "You don't think a shawl as well?" he asked, holding up yards of gaudy material.
"Well, candidly I think Pauline's too fair for that colour scheme, don't you?"
"All right, the paper-knife. You don't mind if I leave these things here till Godbold can fetch them away, and ... er.... I wish you'd choose something for yourself. I've always taken a kind of interest in this house, don't you know, and I've often thought about it in India."
"I'd like a gong," said Guy at once, and Richard was obviously gratified by his quick choice, and still farther gratified when Guy suggested they should sound it immediately outside the kitchen-door. Solemnly Richard held it up in the passage, while Guy crashed forth a glorious clamour, at the summons of which Miss Peasey came rushing out.
"Good gracious," she gasped. "I thought that dog Bob had jumped through the window."
"This is a present for us from India," Guy shouted.
"Oh, that's extremely handsome, isn't it? Well now, I shall expect you to be punctual in future for your meals. Dear me, yes, quite a variety, I'm sure, after that measley bell."
The gong was given a prominent position in the bare hall, and Guy invited Richard up to his own room. After the question of the presents had been solved Richard was shy and silent again, and Guy found it very hard to make conversation. Several times his visitor seemed on the point of getting something off his mind, but when he was given an opportunity for speech, he never accepted it. Desperate for a topic Guy showed him the proofs of the poems and explained that he was binding them roughly as his present to Pauline to-morrow.
"That's something I can't understand," said Richard intensely. "Writing! It beats me!"
"Bridges would beat me," said Guy.