"I don't ask it as a gift. Of course I meant to pay you back the other advances, but everything's been against me. I _will_ try to pay you.

Anyhow, this is a bona fide loan. It's only to tide me over."

"But you said that last time."

"Last time you refused--and I had to chuck away my little run-about--simply chuck it away. And I wanted to keep that car as much for your sake as for mine. I knew you enjoyed a ride in it."

She had ridden in the car once, and once only.

"Look here, old girl." And he removed his hat, and sat down on the other side of the dinner-table. Perhaps he had hoped that she would give him a cheque and let him go out again in two or three minutes; but now he saw it would take longer. "I must have the money by Monday morning--or I shall be in a devil of a hole. More or less a matter of honour.... Don't be nasty. Help a pal. It's not _like_ you to refuse--when I tell you I'm in earnest."

"But, d.i.c.k, I am in earnest, too. Truly I can't do it."

"Rot. You can do it without feeling it." And he a.s.sumed a facetious air.

"Just your autograph--that's all I ask for. I'll write out the cheque myself--save you all trouble. Just sign your name."

"No, I'm very sorry; but it's impossible."

He got up, and began to walk about the room, fuming angrily.

"Then I shall draw on the firm."

"Then I shall have to call in Mr. Prentice, and ask him to protect the firm--to go to the law courts if necessary."

"Oh, that's all my aunt. I've had enough of Mr. Prentice--Mr. Prentice isn't my wet nurse."

"d.i.c.k, be reasonable. Be kind to me. Don't you see, yourself, that--"

"I'm not going to have you and old Prentice treating me as if I was a baby in arms--lecturing, and preaching to me about the firm. You and Prentice aren't the firm. I'm just as much the firm as you are."

"Have I put myself forward? Do I ever deny your rights?"

"Be d.a.m.ned to Prentice." He took his hands out of his overcoat pockets, and brandished them furiously. "Prentice was my enemy from the very beginning;" and he raised his voice. It seemed as if he was purposely working himself into a pa.s.sion. "I was a fool to submit to his bounce. I ought to have had a marriage settlement--money properly settled on me--and I was a fool to let him jew me out of it."

"I gave you a half share."

"Yes, in the business--but _only_ the business."

"Wasn't that enough for you?"

"Yes, in good times, no doubt. But what about bad times? And what the devil did I know of the business before I came into it? Nothing was explained to me. I came in blindfold. I took everything on trust."

"Oh, I think you understood it was a paying concern."

"It wasn't _proved_ to me, anyhow. No one took the trouble to let me see the books--and give me the plain figures. Oh, no, that would have been beneath your dignity."

"Or beneath yours, d.i.c.k?"

"Yes, and I was a fool to consider my dignity. That was old Prentice again. I suppose he took his cue from you. You had put your heads together, and decided that I was to behave like the good boy in the copy-books. Open your mouth and shut your eyes, and see what G.o.d will send you."

"d.i.c.k, please--please don't go on."

Suddenly he stopped walking about, leaned his hands on the table, and stared across at her.

"Suppose the entire business goes to pot. What then?"

"The business will recover, and continue--if it isn't drained to death."

"Yes, but it's all mighty fine for _you_. You can afford to take a lofty tone. Fat years are followed by lean years--We must wait for the fat years again. I know all that cut and dried cackle--it's the way people of property always talk. I came in with nothing--please to remember that. I'm absolutely dependent on the business--if the profits go down to nothing, am I to starve?"

"You shan't starve;" and she looked round the comfortable, well-furnished room.

"_You_ had your private fortune--all that you'd put by,--and I suppose you have got all of it still."

"How can I have it all--when you know what I gave to Enid?"

"You gave Enid a dashed sight too much--but you had plenty left, in spite of that."

"d.i.c.k, on my honour, I hadn't a large amount left. I used to count myself a rich woman, but I was only relying on the business. What I took out one year I put back into it another year. I was always trying to improve it."

"I'll swear you haven't put any back since you married me."

"No, I haven't."

"No, that I'll swear." He had lowered his voice, and he was speaking with a scornful intensity. "No, good times or bad times in the shop, you are content to pouch your dividends from all your stocks and shares, and sit watching your nest-egg grow bigger and bigger, while--"

"d.i.c.k! You are tiring me out. Don't go on."

"Yes, I will go on. You started it--and now I mean to get to the bottom of things. Let's get to plain figures at last. What are you worth now--of your very own--apart from the firm?"

"Not one penny more than I need--for my own safety."

"Ha-ha! You're afraid to tell me."

"Why should I tell you? d.i.c.k, don't go on. It's cruel of you to bully me--when I'm so tired."

"Twenty thousand? Thirty thousand? How much? Oh, I dare say I can figure it out for myself--without your help. Say twelve or fifteen hundred a year, coming in like clockwork. Why I saved you two-fifty a year myself, by cutting down what you intended to settle on Enid and that skinny rascal of a horse-coper."

"d.i.c.k--for pity's sake--"

"Then answer me." And he raised his voice louder than before. "What are you doing with your private income?"

"This house costs _something_."

"Oh, this house can't stand you in much. Where does the rest go--if you aren't saving it? Are you giving it to Enid?... That's it, I suppose. If that lazy swine wants two hundred to buy himself another thoroughbred hunter, I suppose he sends Enid sneaking over here--when my back's turned--and just taps you for it. You don't refuse _him_. But if _I_ come to you, it's 'No, certainly not. Do you want to ruin me?'"

"d.i.c.k!"

"Then, will you let me have it?"