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Of that
at least Artois just then felt certain.
If Vere should really have talent! He did not expect it, although he
had said that there was intellectual force in the girl. There was
intellectual force in Hermione, but she could not create. And Vere! He
smiled as he thought of her rush into the room with her hair streaming
down, of her shrieks of laughter over his absurdity. But she was full
of changes.
The door opened, and Vere came in holding some manuscript in her hand.
She had done up her hair while she had been away. When Artois saw that
he heaved himself up from the sofa.
"I must smoke," he said.
"Oh yes. I'll get the Khali Targas."
"No. I must have a pipe. And you prefer that, I know."
"Generally, but--you do look dreadfully as if you meant business when
you are smoking a pipe."
"I do mean business now."
He took his pipe from his pocket, filled it and lit it.
"Now then, Vere!" he said.
She came to sit down on the sofa.
He sat down beside her.

CHAPTER XII
More than an hour had passed.


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