“Yes,” breathed Amory, softly, but aloud.
The next moment Mr. Strong was himself again. He returned to his station by the asbestos log.
“Well, there’s Prang’s article,” he said in his business voice. “Am I to have it set up?”
“Perhaps we’d better see what Cosimo says first,” Amory replied.
She did not know which was the greater delicacy in Mr. Strong—the exquisite tact of the glance he had given at the casts, or the quiet strength with which he took up the burden of editing the “Novum” again.
V
THREE SHIPS
A white October mist lay over the Heath, and the smell of burning leaves came in at the pond-room window of Dorothy Tasker’s flat. But the smell was lost on Dorothy. All her intelligence was for the moment concentrated in one faculty, the faculty of hearing. She was sure Jackie had swallowed a safety-pin, and she was anxiously listening for the click with which it might come unstuck.
“Shall I send for the doctor, m’m?” said Ruth, who stood holding the doorknob in her aproned hand. She had been called away from her “brights,” and there was a mournful relish of Jackie’s plight on her face.
“No,” said Dorothy.... “Oh, I know there were twelve of them, and now there are only eleven!... Have you put one of these things into your mouth, Jackie?”