She put down her cup and rose.
"I must really be going home, Eva. I didn't mean to stay to tea."
"Must you go? I'm sorry. I hoped you'd stay to dinner and enliven us a little. Jim and I don't have very jovial evenings, do we, Jim? Sometimes I think I might as well be back in my cell."
"Eva—don't." Herrick spoke quietly, and his wife laughed.
"My dear Jim, why be so squeamish? If Mrs. Rose doesn't mind associating with jail-birds, I don't see why you should. I'm thinking of writing a book on my experiences in prison, Toni. Do you think Mr. Rose would collaborate with me—lick my raw stuff into shape, so to speak?"
Before Toni could reply, Herrick interrupted.
"If you are going, Mrs. Rose, I'll take you across the river in the old punt, and see you home along the towing-path. It is the shortest way, but it's lonely at night."
"Thank you, Mr. Herrick. May Olga come, too?"
"Of course. She would be very much hurt if she were left behind."
"How silly you are over that great dog of yours, Jim." Mrs. Herrick included even dogs in her universal hatred nowadays. "I declare I wish someone would poison the beast."