“Well,” he began cheerily, “it’s the last lesson of the quarter, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she said quietly.
He was warming his hands in front of the fire.
“Confoundedly cold for May,” he remarked parenthetically. “You’ve been taking lessons of me for a year now, haven’t you?”
“Just over a year.”
He stood with his back to the fire.
“Well,” he continued, “you’ve not done badly. In fact, you’ve—you’ve improved—er—quite—er—beyond my expectations. I admit that.”
It was the biggest compliment he had ever paid her. Pleasure surged in her blood. She flushed.
“And,” he went on, “I don’t want to go on taking your money when you’re no longer likely to benefit much. As a matter of fact, you’ve come to a point at which my lessons are no longer worth three guineas each to you. You can teach yourself as well as I can teach you. I’ve led you out to the open sea, and now the time’s come for—for dropping the pilot. See?”
She nodded.