boilers, at the same time sheltered from the view of people passing.
Unless he made this a holiday, when his books were all packed, he
would have no holiday whatever; for out at Santa Marina Helen knew, by
experience, that he would work all day; his boxes, she said, were packed
with books.

"Leave it to me--leave it to me!" said Willoughby, obviously intending
to do much more than she asked of him. But Ridley and Mr. Pepper were
heard fumbling at the door.

"How are you, Vinrace?" said Ridley, extending a limp hand as he came
in, as though the meeting were melancholy to both, but on the whole more
so to him.

Willoughby preserved his heartiness, tempered by respect. For the moment
nothing was said.

"We looked in and saw you laughing," Helen remarked. "Mr. Pepper had
just told a very good story."

"Pish. None of the stories were good," said her husband peevishly.

"Still a severe judge, Ridley?" enquired Mr. Vinrace.

"We bored you so that you left," said Ridley, speaking directly to his
wife.

As this was quite true Helen did not attempt to deny it, and her next
remark, "But didn't they improve after we'd gone?" was unfortunate, for
her husband answered with a droop of his shoulders, "If possible they