ting.

The really sad part of the whole affair is that she seems to be very
fond of me. Poor girl! We all make mistakes. Anyhow, apart from her
momentary mad infatuation for her husband, she is very sensible and I
always like to consult her. Married women are so different from single
girls; I don't know why, unless it is that they have husbands.

Edith being married, therefore, I rang her up.

"I want," I said, "to consult you financially."

"Certainly," she replied. "What is it?"

"Private. I will come round to tea."

I rang off. I made a little parcel of my accounts and then telephoned
for a taxi. In due course I found Edith in the drawing-room.

"Hello," she said. "Is it very bad trouble?"

"We are," I replied, "in deep water. Life is very shallow." Edith
laughed; she appreciates wit.

"Well, let me see if I can help."

I sat down. "I want two new coats," I explained. "My tailor is
clamouring for thirty pounds, balance of account owing, and," I added
significantly, "there are others. It is going to be a big smash."

"Poor boy!"

I sighed heavily as I opened the accounts.

"Here we are," I said. "Tailor, thirty pounds."

I paused and again sighed.

"Hatter, three pounds."

"Three pounds?" Edith looked amazed.

"That's your fault. I bought a new hat for your wedding. Not only was I
best, but best-dressed man. I wore beautiful clothes to hide a breaking
heart."

Edith smiled. "A beautiful hat was perhaps superfluous," she suggested.
"They are worn so little in church. Are there any more?"

"Plenty. Hatter, three pounds; Glover, one pound----"

"What for?"

"Gloves. Need I go through the sad list?"

Edith shook her head. "What's the total?"

"Fifty-four pounds, thirteen and fourpence. I'm hoping to avoid the
fourpence in discounts. Total spare cash, twenty pounds, and nearly
three months to go before I touch any more."

"Poor boy, have you really only twenty pounds?"

"To throw about in bills, certainly. I shall want all my other money for
rent and food and cash payments."

"And are they all clamouring for their money?"

"Yes, the sharks."

Edith lay back in her chair and thought. Suddenly she sat up.

"It can't be helped," she said. "Some of them will have to wait. We'll
put their names in a hat and the first three we draw out get paid."

"Yes," I objected, "but what about my overcoats?"

"You must wait."

"No," I said, "I have a better idea." I paused impressively. "I think
th