those books." He made a gesture towards his room. "I can't quite explain
it, but I felt that the slight, or what looks like a slight, is on them,
not on me." He put his hand to the back of his head, a habit
characteristic when he was embarrassed or perplexed. "I'm afraid I can't
quite express it, but it's the books. Not myself. I'm--fond of them.
They're not just paper and print to me. I feel that they feel it. You
won't quite understand, I'm afraid--"

"No, I confess that is a little beyond me," said Mr. Fortune, smoothing
his front; and they remained looking at one another.

A sudden and unearthly moan sounded through the room. Mr. Fortune spun
himself with relief to his desk and applied his lips to a flexible
speaking tube. "Yes?" He dodged the tube to his ear, then to his lips
again.

"Beg Canon Toomuch to step up to my room." He laid down the tube.

Sabre roused himself and stood up abruptly. "Ah, well! All right, sir."
He moved towards his door.

"Sabre," inquired Mr. Fortune, "you get on well with Twyning, I trust?"

"Get on? Oh yes. We don't have much to do with each other."

"Do you dislike Twyning?"

"I don't dislike him. I'm indifferent to him."

"I regret to hear that," said Mr. Fortune.

From the door Sabre put a question in his turn: "When are you going to
make this change with Twyning?"

"Not to-day."

"Am I still to remember that you held out partnership to me?"

"Certainly you may."

"When is it likely to be?"

"Not to-day."

Maddening expression!

Sabre, in his room, went towards his chair. He was about to drop into it
when he recollected something. He went out into the corridor and along
the corridor, past Mr. Fortune's door (Canon Toomuch coming heavily up
the stairs) to Twyning's room. He put in his head. "Oh, I say, Twyning,
if Fortune should ever ask you if you told me about that business, you
can tell him you didn't."

"Oh--oh, right-o," said Twyning; and to himself when the door closed,
"Funked speaking to him!"

V

Arrived again in his room, Sabre dropped into his chair. In his eyes was
the look that had been in them when he had tried to explain to Mr.
Fortune about the books, what Mr. Fortune had confessed he found a
little beyond him. He thought: "The books.... Of course Fortune hasn't
imagined them ... seen them grow helped them to grow.... But it hurts.
Like hell it hurts.... And I can't explain to him how I feel about
them.... I can't explain to any one."