penings. Old Heythorp had
said: "You'll burn your fingers." The process had begun. Having sent
her daughter away on a pretext really a bit too thin, Mrs. Larne had
installed him beside her scented bulk on the sofa, and poured into his
ear such a tale of monetary woe and entanglement, such a mass of present
difficulties and rosy prospects, that his brain still whirled, and only
one thing emerged clearly-that she wanted fifty pounds, which she would
repay him on quarter-day; for their Guardy had made a settlement by
which, until the dear children came of age, she would have sixty pounds
every quarter. It was only a question of a few weeks; he might ask
Messrs. Scriven and Coles; they would tell him the security was quite
safe. He certainly might ask Messrs. Scriven and Coles--they happened
to be his father's solicitors; but it hardly seemed to touch the point.
Bob Pillin had a certain shrewd caution, and the point was whether he was
going to begin to lend money to a woman who, he could see, might borrow
up to seventy times seven on the strength of his infatuation for her
daughter. That was rather too strong! Yet, if he didn't she might take
a sudden dislike to him, and where would he be then? Besides, would not a
loan make his position stronger? And then--such is the effect of love
even on the younger generation--that thought seemed to him unworthy. If
he lent at all, it should be from chivalry--ulterior motives might go
hang! And the memory of the tear-marks on Phyllis's pretty pale-pink
cheeks; and her petulantly mournful: "Oh! young man, isn't money
beastly!" scraped his heart, and ravished his judgment. All the same,
fifty pounds was fifty pounds, and goodness knew how much more; and what
did he know of Mrs. Larne, after all, except that she was a relative of
old Heythorp's and wrote stories--told them too, if he was not mistaken?
Perhaps it would be better to see Scrivens'. But again that absurd
nobility assaulted him. Phyllis! Phyllis! Besides, were not
settlements always drawn so that they refused to form security for
anything? Thus, hampered and troubled, he hailed a cab. He was dining
with the Ventnors on the Cheshire side, and would be late if he didn't
get home sharp to dress.

Driving, white-tied--and waist-coated, in his father's car, he thought
with a certain contumely of the younger Ventnor girl, whom he had been
wont to consider pretty before he knew Phyllis. And seated next her at
dinn