tea.

"What--me take money from Roger Gibbs' lass?" she said, her manner
filled with the mingled independence and respect of the best type of
countrywoman. "Not I, sir. We Yorkshire folks don't grudge a cup o' tea
and a bit of fatty cake to them as is like ourselves, exiles in a
strange land. Besides, it's been a rare treat to see the young lady. To
think that Roger Gibbs' lile lass should come drivin' up in one of they
great mutter-cars, too!"

"Yes, and it's really time she drove away in it," responded Herrick
pleasantly. "I think I hear Fletcher bringing it round."

There was a tentative hoot from Fletcher's horn at that moment; and
after a grateful farewell, and a vain attempt to pay, at least, for
Fletcher's tea, Herrick took Toni out and installed her in the car.

He refused her invitation to drive home with her, alleging that his
health required exercise; and though Toni might have been forgiven for
thinking fifteen miles' ride over a wet and muddy road, under a still
cloudy sky, rather a strenuous form of exercise, some newly acquired
intuition told her he really wished to be alone.

She said good-bye, therefore, without attempting to press the matter;
and a moment later the car glided away, its lamps gleaming in the rural
blackness of the village street.

As he rode home, his tyres splashing through puddles, and spattering him
with mud, Herrick's face was very tired and worn, but in his eyes there
lurked a little faint light of happiness that he had helped another
weary soul a few steps forward on its pilgrimage over a thorny road.

"Poor little soul!" He smiled as he recognized the form his sympathy
took. "After all she's right--she has a soul--and even though it brings
her suffering and tears, it's worth the price. And yet--I wonder if it
would have been kinder to leave her alone--not to encourage that hope of
hers to make herself more intellectually worthy of her husband? I didn't
make much success of waking _my_ Undine's soul to life! All I got was
her hatred--and from the beginning she lied to me!"

Luckily at that moment his lamp blew out, viciously; and with a muttered
execration of the creatures he called Boo-Boos, he dismounted and
relighted the flame, whose vagaries throughout the rest of the long ride
kept him so fully occupied that he had neither time nor inclination to
meditate on such abstractions as souls.

CHAPTER XVIII

By the end of September, Owen's book was finished; and