He did not tell them that they had got the previous day’s papers in St. Peter Port, and that their scathing comments on a peculiarly bad failure, and on the remarkable contrast between the profession and the practice of Jeremiah Pixley’s life, had driven Charles Svendt almost crazy.  The wound was raw in their hearts.  There was no need to turn the knife in it.

“We shall see him back here with Mrs. Pixley before the middle of next week, unless I’m very much mistaken,” he said.  “He says there’s nothing doing on the Stock Exchange, and he can fix things with his partner to get away for a time, and it seems the wisest thing to do.”

“I have liked Charles better this time than I ever did in my life before,” said Margaret.  “And I am very very sorry for him and Mrs. Pixley.”

“He’s not half a bad fellow,” said Graeme heartily.

And perhaps, if it had been put to Miss Penny, she would have improved even upon that.

“I hope you’re not very set on being a rich woman, Meg,” said Graeme, when they were alone together.

“Oh, but I am,” she said, with a smile which all the riches in the world could not have bought from her, or brought to her.

“Yes, I know,”—­and he gathered the smile with a kiss.  “But in coarse material wealth, I mean.”

“I’m just as set on it as you are.  I want just as much as will make you happy.  You mean Mr. Pixley has made away with it all?”

“I’m very much afraid so, but I guess we can get along all right without it.”

“Of course we can—­splendidly.  I’m a famous housekeeper and you’ll be a famous author.  There couldn’t be a better team.  It will bring out the very best that’s in us.”

“We can never come to actual want anyway, for my little bit—­which, by the way, Lady Elspeth once took the trouble to impress upon me was just about enough to pay Mr. Pixley’s servants’ wages—­is in Consols, and they’re not likely to crack up.  And my last book brought me about fifty pounds—­”

“It ought to have brought you five thousand.  I’m sure it was good enough.”

“Of course it was, but it takes time to work up to the five thousand point.  Some get there, I suppose.  But I should imagine more starve off at the fifty line.”

“We could live like princes on a couple of hundred a year in Sark here.”

“It would pall on you in time, I’m afraid.”

“You’ve been here twice as long as I have.  Has it begun to pall on you yet?”

“I don’t think it would ever pall on me, if I lived here for a century.  But then I’ve got my work, you see.”

“And I’ve got you, my dear.  When you and Sark begin to pall I’ll promise to let you know.  It’s heavenly.”

“Oh, I don’t claim all that, you know.  Don’t expect too much—­”

“Will Charles be involved at all, do you think, Jock?”

“I don’t think so.  They had not much to do with one another in business matters.”