A few days later he was sitting beside the fire at home after his evening meal when Sylvia entered the room in his wife's absence. She stood near the hearth, examining some embroidery in her hand, but she looked up presently, and it became evident that she had been reading the papers.
"There seems to be a sharp fall in rubber shares," she said. "Will it affect you?"
"No," replied Herbert, "not seriously."
"I suppose that means you must have anticipated the fall and sold out—unloaded, I think you call it—in time?"
Herbert did not wish to discuss the matter. He had already had one or two trying interviews with his business colleagues, and the opinions they had expressed about him still rankled in his mind. He was not particularly sensitive, but the subject was an unpleasant one.
"Something of the kind," he answered. "One has to take precautions."
Sylvia laughed.
"One could imagine your taking them. You're not the man to be caught at a disadvantage, are you?"
"Well," he said dryly, "it's a thing I try to avoid."
Sylvia sat down, as if she meant to continue the conversation, which was far from what he desired, but he could not be discourteous.