‘Trust me, not half bad. Be of use in the propaganda. Just think it over, and, if you care to, allow me to read it in manuscript. There’s a kind of art—eh? you know what I mean; it’s only to be got by journalistic practice. Yes, “My Work in New Wanley”; I think that would do.’
‘I’m going to lecture at Commonwealth Hall next Sunday,’ Mutimer observed. ‘I’ll take that for my title.’
‘By-the-bye how—what was I going to say? Oh yes, how is Mrs. Rodman?’
‘Tolerable, I believe.’
‘In London, presumably?’
‘Yes.’
‘Not much—not taking it to heart much, I hope?’
‘Not particularly? I think.’
‘I should be glad to be remembered—a word when you see her. Thanks, Mutimer, thanks. I must be off.’
Adela was making haste to Teach the Manor, that she might read Stella’s letter She and her husband were to dine this evening with the Walthams—a farewell meal. With difficulty she escaped from her mother and Letty; Stella’s letter demanded a quarter of an hour of solitude.