Hump-Curer. The only way to get sittings was to approach him in the way of business. So I collected what property I had and waded in. That’s the whole story. Do I pass?”

Mr. Warden’s frosty demeanour had gradually thawed during this recital, and now the sun of his smile shone out warmly. He gripped Mr. Vince’s hand with every evidence of esteem, and after that he did not seem to know what to do. Eventually he did what was certainly the best thing, by passing gently from the room. On his face, as he went, was a look such as Moses might have worn on the summit of Pisgah.

It was some twenty minutes later that Ruth made a remark.

“I want you to promise me something,” she said. “Promise that you won’t go on with that Uncle Zip drawing. I know it means ever so much money, but it might hurt poor M. Gandinot’s feelings, and he has been very kind to me.”

“That settles it,” said Mr. Vince. “It’s hard on the children of Great Britain, but say no more. No Uncle Zip for them.”

Ruth looked at him, almost with awe.

“You really won’t go on with it? In spite of all the money you would make? Are you always going to do just what I ask you, no matter what it costs you?”

He nodded sadly.

“You have sketched out in a few words the whole policy of my married life. I feel an awful fraud. And I had encouraged you to look forward to years of incessant quarrelling. Do you think you can manage without it? I’m afraid it’s going to be shockingly dull for you,” said Mr. Vince, regretfully.