treated me like a child, giving me a make-believe success just to--just
to keep me quiet, I suppose. You--'

He was fumbling in his pocket.

'May I read you a letter?' he said.

'A letter?'

'Quite a short one. It is from Epstein, the picture-dealer. This is
what he says. "Sir," meaning me, not "Dear Bill," mind you--just "Sir."
"I am glad to be able to inform you that I have this morning received
an offer of ten guineas for your picture, 'Child and Cat'. Kindly let
me know if I am to dispose of it at this price."'

'Well?' said Annette, in a small voice.

'I have just been to Epstein's. It seems that the purchaser is a Miss
Brown. She gave an address in Bayswater. I called at the address. No
Miss Brown lives there, but one of your pupils does. I asked her if she
was expecting a parcel for Miss Brown, and she said that she had had
your letter and quite understood and would take it in when it arrived.'

Annette was hiding her face in her hands.

'Go away!' she said, faintly.

Mr Bates moved a step nearer.

'Do you remember that story of the people on the island who eked out a