I
wish I could have been at the committee yesterday.
What decision did you finally arrive at?"
"What I have come here about: to ask you to
go and talk it over with him and persuade him to
soften the thing."
"Me? But I hardly know the man; and besides
that, he detests me. Why should I go, of all
people?"
"Simply because there's no one else to do it
to-day. Besides, you are more reasonable than
the rest of us, and won't get into useless arguments
and quarrel with him, as we should."
"I shan't do that, certainly. Well, I will go if
you like, though I have not much hope of success."
"I am sure you will be able to manage him if
you try. Yes, and tell him that the committee
all admired the thing from a literary point of view.
That will put him into a good humour, and it's perfectly
true, too."
. . . . .
The Gadfly was sitting beside a table covered
with flowers and ferns, staring absently at the
floor, with an open letter on his knee. A shaggy
collie dog, lying on a rug at his feet, raised its
head and growled as Gemma knocked at the open
door, and the Gadfly rose hastily and bowed in a
stiff, ceremonious way.
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