"Certainly," she answered, holding out the block; "but it isn't half
finished yet."

"Will it take long?"

"About an hour, I think."

"You are very clever," he said, with a little sigh.

She laughed outright.

"People are calling you the cleverest man in London to-day," she
said.

"Pshaw! It isn't the cleverness that counts for anything that makes
money."

Then he set his teeth hard together and swore vigorously but
silently. She had become suddenly interested in her work. A shrill
burst of laughter from the lawn in front had rung sharply out,
startling them both. A young woman with fluffy hair and in a pale
blue dinner-dress was dancing to an unseen audience. Trent's eyes
flashed with anger, and his cheeks burned. The dance was a
music-hall one, and the gestures were not refined. Before he could
stop himself an oath had broken from his lips. After that he dared
not even glance at the girl by his side.

"I'm very sorry," he muttered. "I'll stop that right away."