an
twopence-halfpenny," Owen reminded him quietly, "and I daresay a girl
out of a shop would make a jolly decent wife. But I wasn't contemplating
them when I spoke."

"Of course not," assented Barry hastily. "I only meant----"

"You only meant to give me good advice," said Owen, more kindly than he
had yet spoken. "All right, old man, I understand. You must forgive me
if I'm cross-grained to-night. You see I've had a shock----"

He broke off abruptly.

"There, I'm not going to whine about it. It's over, done with, and a new
chapter's started." He yawned ostentatiously. "Barry, I shall call upon
your good offices as best man yet--unless you hurry up and marry Miss
Lynn first."

"Oh, Olive and I are in no hurry!" He laughed a trifle awkwardly. "You
see, she is so young--only just eighteen--and her people won't hear of
it for a couple of years."

"Well, that will soon pass." He turned towards the door. "I must be off
now, Barry--it's late, and I'm pretty fagged. See you in the morning, I
suppose?"

"Of course. I say, Owen, sure you won't stay here to-night? I can give
you a bed, you know."

"Thanks awfully, old chap, but I'd rather get home. I've heaps of things
to see to. Thanks all the same."

Still talking, the friends crossed the hall, and Barry unlatched the
door of the flat.

"Well, so-long, Barry. Awfully glad to have seen you again." He gripped
the younger man's hand, and Barry understood what the grip implied.

"Good-night, Owen. See you to-morrow."

Two minutes later Owen had disappeared round a bend in the staircase;
and Barry went slowly back into his sitting-room, feeling curiously
tired, as though he had been indulging in some violent physical
exercise.

"Poor old chap! What a beast that girl is!" He had never liked Miss
Rees, and now felt, naturally, that his dislike was justified. "But I
hope to goodness he doesn't go and do anything rash. He's got a pretty
good head on him, though, and I daresay a lot of this talk is mere
bravado."

He turned off the light and went into his bedroom. On the dressing-table
stood a silver frame holding a photograph; and Barry took up the frame
and studied the portrait carefully.

"Olive, you'd never play me a trick like that, would you! My God, I hope
you don't! It would just about kill me to have to lose faith in you!"

The deep eyes looked up at him candidly, the sweet mouth seemed to
smile; and with a sudden blissful certainty that the original of the