“Plenty.”
“A couple of Merrin’s exercise-books should be enough to contain your notes.”
“When am I to go?”
“The sooner the better. I am at a standstill for want of the material. You might catch the express to Paris to-morrow; no, say the day after to-morrow.” She looked at him tenderly. “The parting will be bitter.”
“Very bitter,” Mr. Eustace Greyne replied.
He felt really upset. Mrs. Greyne laid the hand which had brought them from Phillimore Gardens to Belgrave Square gently upon his.
“Think of the result,” she said. “The greatest book I have done yet. A book that will last. A book that will——”
“Take us to Park Lane,” he murmured.
The Rembrandtesque head nodded. The noble features, as of a strictly respectable Roman emperor, relaxed.
“A book that will take us to Park Lane.”