“I?—oh—here is a space.”
He took up a pen the Padrone had brought, dipped it into the ink.
“What’s the good?” he said, making a movement as if to push the book away.
“No; do write.”
“Why should I?”
“I agree with Vere. Your name will add something worth having to the book.”
“Oh, well—”
A rather bitter expression had come into his face.
“Dead-sea fruit!” he muttered.
But he bent, wrote something quickly, signed his name, blotted and shut the book. Hermione had not been able to see the sentence he had written. She did not ask what it was.