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 with you. If Lily hesitates, use your influence with her," he added sardonically. "The notion's preposterous, if you like, but you've persuaded her to more preposterous courses still, before now. You've persuaded her to leave her husband, to give up her position, her duties; you've persuaded her to go and live in London, to be near you, to complete her education, to develop her individuality, and a lot of damned rot of that sort. Well, now, persuade her to this. Persuade her to let me have the boy for a time. Persuade her that it's for Phil's own good. And tell her roundly that I refuse absolutely to hold any kind of business discussions with either her or her agent, until I've got the boy."

"You're mad, Le Mesurier. It is I, as you know, who have consistently advised Lily, on the contrary, to remove the boy as far as possible from your influence. If you are serious in asking me now to urge her to let him come here, and live alone with you, day in and day out, for a month—really, you must be mad."

"Very good. Mad or not, you have heard my last word. And if you cannot see your way to meeting my wishes in the matter, I don't know that there's anything that need detain you here longer."

He looked significantly from Shergold to the door. The mist was lifting a little. A pale sun was just visible behind it, a disc of gold shining through a veil; and here and there, through rifts, one could catch glimpses of faint blue sky.

Shergold, vexed, hesitant, looked at his watch.

"You're wasting precious time," he said, impatiently. "What's the use of opening old sores? You know our decision about the child is irrevocably fixed. You yourself assented to it long ago. What's the sense of letting this new idea of yours—this freak—this whim, to have him here—interfere with business of