Winifred she saw occasionally. She had no time for anything beyond a half hour's gossip, and then she forgot her own hopes and fears in the happiness of her friend, who had just become engaged to Treherne. She saw nothing of Kent. A feeling she could not analyse restrained her from writing to him, ever so formally. It was analogous to the whimsical shrinking from sketching his portrait when she had first met him. She heard of him, however, through Winifred. He came down to the studio still occasionally, and chatted over the teacups—“chiefly about you, dear,” said Winifred, “and the old days and your present life.”
“And is he changed at all?” asked Clytie. “It seems centuries since those same old days. I feel almost like asking whether he has a gray head and carries his years well!”
“It does seem a long time,” said Winifred reflectively. “But it really isn't, you know, and Kent is just the same as ever. His trip abroad has done him so much good. Do you know, dear, except Victor—and Mr. Hammerdyke, of course—I think he is the best man in all the world.”
Her brown cheeks flushed as she spoke, and Clytie bent down and kissed them.
“Oh, Winnie darling, I wish everybody were as true and loyal as you,” she said.
A great sob was in her heart, and she would have given much to have buried her face in Winnie's lap and let the tears come how they would. But she mastered herself, and before the other had time to hear the echo of the chord that was struck she went on:
“Tell me, Winnie, how is his great work getting on?”
“Rapidly, I believe,” answered Winifred. “He seems to have nothing else to live for now. I think he misses you, dear, and plunges into it as a kind of consolation. He has had a great compliment paid him—have you heard? He met a great Austrian scientist, Herr ————, I can't remember his name—it doesn't matter. Anyhow, he showed this professor his work, and talked to him about the difficulties of publishing, expense, and all that, and a few days ago he received an offer from the University of Vienna to translate what was already done into German and publish it there. He says it is a most distinguished honour.”
“I am so glad, dear,” said Clytie. “I feel proud of him, and I wish I could see him—to give him my congratulations. You will tell him that I asked after him, won't you, Winnie?”
“Why, of course!” said Winifred. “Don't we always talk of you?”