Part 63

"I'm going to smoke," said Tanqueray. "Will you come to my den, Jinny, and talk about Hambleby?"

Rose looked as if positively she couldn't believe her ears. But it was at Jane that she looked, not at Tanqueray.

"No," said Jinny. "I don't want to talk about Hambleby. I want to talk to your wife."

"You mustn't mind what 'e says," said Rose, when they were alone together. "'E sometimes says things to me that make me fair jump."

"I didn't jump," said Jane, "did I?"

"No. You took it a deal better than I should have done."

It was odd, but Rose was ten times more at her ease since Tanqueray's awful reference to Hambleby. And she seemed happier, too.

"You see," said Jane, "there wasn't much to take. Hambleby's only a man in a book I'm writing."

"Oh--only a man in a book."

Rose looked depressed. There was a silence which even Jane found it difficult to break. Then she had an inspiration.

"I'm supposed to be in love with him because I can't think or talk about anything else."

"That's just like Mr. Tanqueray," said Rose.

"Only he isn't in love with the people in his books," said Jane.

"He must think a deal of 'em."

"He says he doesn't."

"Well--'e's always thinkin' when he isn't writin'."

There was trouble on Rose's face.

"Miss 'Olland--'ow many hours do you sit at it?"

"Oh, it depends."

"'E's sittin' all day sometimes, and 'arf the night. And my fear is," said Rose, "'e'll injure 'is brain."

"It will take a good deal to injure it. It's very tough. He'll leave off when he's tired."

"He hasn't left off for months and months."

Her trouble deepened.

"Did 'e always work that 'ard?"

"No," said Jane. "I don't think he ever did."

"Then w'y," said Rose, coming straight to her point, "is he doin' it now?"

They looked at each other; and somehow Jane knew why he was doing it. She wondered if Rose knew; if she suspected.

"He's doing it," she said, "because he can do it. You've had a good effect on him."