out a plate overnight, and have just enough in the morning to
use during the day."

Old Heythorp sighed.

"There's only one thing in life that matters--independence. Lose that,
and you lose everything. That's the value of money. Help me up."

Phyllis stretched out her hands, and the little dog, running down her
back, resumed its perch on the window-sill, close to the blind cord.

Once on his feet, old Heythorp said:

"Give me a kiss. You'll have your satin tomorrow."

Then looking at Bob Pillin, he remarked:

"Going my way? I'll give you a lift."

The young man, giving Phyllis one appealing look, answered dully:
"Tha-anks!" and they went out together to the taxi. In that draughtless
vehicle they sat, full of who knows what contempt of age for youth; and
youth for age; the old man resenting this young pup's aspiration to his
granddaughter; the young man annoyed that this old image had dragged him
away before he wished to go. Old Heythorp said at last:

"Well?"

Thus expected to say something, Bob Pillin muttered

"Glad your meetin' went off well, sir. You scored a triumph I should
think."

"Why?"

"Oh! I don't know. I thought you had a good bit of opposition to contend
with."

Old Heythorp looked at him.

"Your grandmother!" he said; then, with his habitual instinct of attack,
added: "You make the most of your opportunities, I see."

At this rude assault Bob Pillin's red-cheeked face assumed a certain
dignity. "I don't know what you mean, sir. Mrs. Larne is very kind to
me."

"No doubt. But don't try to pick the flowers."

Thoroughly upset, Bob Pillin preserved a dogged silence. This fortnight,
since he had first met Phyllis in old Heythorp's hall, had been the most
singular of his existence up to now. He would never have believed that a
fellow could be so quickly and completely bowled, could succumb without
a kick, without even wanting to kick. To one with his philosophy of
having a good time and never committing himself too far, it was in the
nature of "a fair knock-out," and yet so pleasurable, except for the
wear and tear about one's chances. If only he knew how far the old
boy really counted in the matter! To say: "My intentions are strictly
honourable" would be old-fashioned; besides--the old fellow might have
no right to hear it. They called him Guardy, but without knowing more he
did not want to admit the old curmudgeon's right to interfere.

"Are you a relation of theirs, sir?"

Old H