Geoffrey drew on his coat, and spoke jestingly of his amateur workmanship. Such employment, however, seemed not inappropriate to him, for his business was that of a timber-merchant. Of late years he had lived abroad, for the most part in Canada. Rosamund learnt that at present he was having a longish holiday.
"And you go back to Canada?"
This she asked when Miss Hunt had stepped into the house to call for tea. Geoffrey answered that it was doubtful; for various reasons he rather hoped to remain in England, but the choice did not altogether rest with him.
"At all events"—she gave a poor little laugh—"you haven't pined in exile."
"Not a bit of it. I have always had plenty of hard work—the one thing needful."
"Yes—I remember—you always used to say that. And I used to protest. You granted, I think, that it might be different with women."
"Did I?"
He wished to add something to the point, but refrained out of compassion. It was clear to him that Miss Jewell, at all events, would have been none the worse for exacting employment. Mrs. Hunt had spoken of her with the disapprobation natural in a healthy, active woman of the old school, and Geoffrey himself could not avoid a contemptuous judgment.
"You have lived in London all this time?" he asked, before she could speak.
"Yes. Where else should I live? My sister at Glasgow doesn't want me there, and—and there's nobody else, you know." She tried to laugh. "I have friends in London—well, that is to say—at all events I'm not quite solitary."
The man smiled, and could not allow her to suspect how pro-foundly
