"You are not looking so well, as your letter led me to hope Robin," said Herrick, when the two were smoking in the study.
"I am in the best of health," said Robin quickly. "But of course I have been working hard at my book, and that takes it out of a chap."
"Read me some of the chapters," said Herrick, who once had been a kind of literary adviser to the author.
Robin shook his head uneasily. "Not until the book is done," he said. "I want you to get an impression as a whole. This will be my master-piece. Besides," he added glancing at the clock, "we might be interrupted. At half past seven a friend of mine is coming to dinner."
"I hope my unexpected coming will not upset your arrangements Joyce?"
"Of course not--how can you think so?" said Robin with an air of constraint that did not escape Herrick. "You are always welcome. Will you stop the night? I can put you up."
"No! I must get back to Marsh. I am his companion and doctor for the time being. A very good billet I assure you Robin."
"What about your practice?" asked Joyce.
"I am now selling it to Grant. It is such a small practice that it is not worth my while to stick to it as against an assured income of a thousand a year."
"Is that what Marsh gives you?"