"Well?" demanded Charles. "You see where it leaves me. All this time wasted."
"At least you have the material for your book." Catherine was dispassionately consoling. "And you have that almost done."
"But I haven't. It's clinic material. I can't publish it now. It belongs to them."
"Charles!"
"Exactly. She did part of the work, Miss Partridge. She wants that for Dr. Beck. The committee wants the rest, for its clinic as at present established."
"That's outrageous."
"I could put out a book from my own notes. But it wouldn't mean anything. No authority behind it. No, I'm done with them. Done."
"At least"—Catherine felt slowly for words—"you have your university work. That's the main thing. That hasn't been touched."
"Hasn't it, though?" Charles was grim. "When I've spent all this time, on the score of a great contribution I was about to make!"