"Yes; stuff to work into the—novel."
"The novel? Ah, I remember. I'm going to be stuffed in with Tate and—and the others?"
"Yes; but don't you recall, you are to be redeemed—you are to be my—my hero—in the end you are to be—splendid."
A deep groan was the only reply to this; the groan and the look of growing misery on the man's face.
"You're to go back—you see I feel you once belonged somewhere else—and take up your life-work with——"
"With?" Jock repeated the word hopelessly.
"With her—the girl."
"Why the girl I'm going to create. First I thought I'd have her—Joyce; but that doesn't stand clear in my thought—I cannot quite see just the sort of girl—that could rouse you to—to great things."
Filmer was staring at the speaker with dazed and pitiful eyes. Then Constance beheld a miracle. The stony misery melted as an infinite sadness and pity overflowed.