day. My brain won't work. . . . I've done it, and there's nothing more to be said. I'm going to stand by it. Will you have a drink?"
"No, it's too hot. I'll never forgive Ramsey for this. I'll make him sorry, too. I was going to buy a new carpet for the church, and I'm dashed if I will, now." He stared angrily out of the window. He added in a moment, "Just look at those clouds, Vale, over the lake. Menacing, aren't they? I must be getting home."
"Better stay till it's over."
"No, I'll have to go. Grace is very nervous about storms and this is going to be a bad one." He got up and leant on his stick. "But remember, I'm your friend, always. And if I can do anything—look here! Why can't you pay her off and get rid of her?"
"I'm not going to do anything," shouted Derek, suddenly, "but sit here and soak. It's all I'm good for. Talk, talk, talk—I'm utterly sick of talk." He glared at his friend with rather pathetic hostility.
A heavy sound of thunder rolled above the lake.
"I suppose you are," concurred Mr. Jerrold. "Well, good-bye. And, I say that note is just about due. I can meet it all right."
"I'd forgotten it."
"Well, I hadn't."
"How are things going?"
"Pretty rotten, just now. But they'll be looking up soon. They're bound to. I have grand young stock coming on. I want you to see them. Will you come over?"
"Of course I shall. And, look here, if I've acted like a grouchy brute today, don't imagine that I'm not appreciating your coming over here like this—when you're suffering."
"Good God, I'd have come on my hands and knees to have prevented this!"
