Why not, indeed? He walked two or three paces from her, trying to
think it out. If only his head didn't ache so abominably! To refuse to
share the work with her was of course to lay himself open to a most
disgusting suspicion.

He paced back again. Did she suspect him of mercenary motives? No; she
suspected nothing. Her face expressed disappointment and bewilderment,
so far as she allowed it to express anything. One more turn. Thank
Goodness, she was not looking at him; she was giving him time. Only a
second, though. She had seated herself, as much as to say she was now
waiting for an explanation. He mustn't keep her waiting; he must say
something, but what on earth was he going to say?

And as he looked at the lady so serenely seated, there rose up before
him a sudden impertinent, incongruous vision of Miss Poppy Grace's
legs. They reminded him that certain affairs of his own imperatively
called him back to town. Happy thought--why not say so?

"I ought to have said that in any case I couldn't undertake it. I
couldn't make time without giving up some very important engagements."

"Could you not have thought of that before you came?"

"I did think of it. I thought I could fit everything in by going up to
town from Saturday to Monday. But if I'm to finish by the
twenty-seventh, even--even with your help, I oughtn't to lose a day,
much less three days."

"I see. You are afraid of not being able to finish?"