Mr. Paramor's meaning was lost in a smile; and Mrs. Pendyce, who did not know that the word “Pendycitis” was on the tip of his tongue, smiled vaguely too.
“George is very determined,” she said. “Do you think—oh, do you think, Mr. Paramor, that you will be able to persuade Captain Bellew's solicitors——”
Mr. Paramor threw himself back in his chair, and his hand covered what he had written on his blotting-paper.
“Yes,” he said slowly——“oh yes, yes!”
But Mrs. Pendyce had had her answer. She had meant to speak of her visit to Helen Bellew, but now her thought was:
'He won't persuade them; I feel it. Let me get away!'
Again she seemed to hear the incessant clicking, to smell leather and disinfectant, to see those words, “Bellew v. Bellew and, Pendyce.”
She held out her hand.
Mr. Paramor took it in his own and looked at the floor.
“Good-bye,” he said, “good-bye. What's your address— Green's Hotel? I'll come and tell you what I do. I know—I know!”