"But if there are two persons?"
"Then, of course, it would take eight hours."
"So, if I worked, too—"
"In that case," he replied imperturbably, "it would take twelve hours."
"You said eight just now."
"Assuming that the two persons worked equally hard."
She crossed to a table in the middle of the room, it was littered with papers. She brought and showed him some sheets covered with delicate handwriting; her work, poor lady.
"This is a rough catalogue as far as I've got. I think it will be some help."
"Very great help," he murmured, stung by an indescribable compunction. He had not reckoned on this complication; and it made the ambiguity of his position detestable. It was bad enough to come sneaking into her house as his father's agent and spy, and be doing his business all the while that this adorably innocent lady believed him to be exclusively engaged on hers. But that she should work with him, toiling at a catalogue which would eventually be Rickman's catalogue, there was something in the notion extremely repulsive to his sense of honour. Under its muffling of headache his mind wrestled feebly with the situation. He wished he had not got drunk last night so that he could see the thing clearly all round. As far as he could see at present the only decent course was to back out of it.
"What I have done covers the first five sections up to F."