rewski into a cocked hat. She
was wonderful. That's the way he piled it on, and it may have been all
true; he could have made a fortune, fiddling, if he hadn't been as
proud as Satan and as lazy as a wombat. Well, I said, if that was so,
I'd take her up and run her as a pro.--for friendship, mind you. I
liked Freddy, and I was orf'ly sorry for him. She could pay me if she
pulled it off; if not, she could let it stand over till the day of
judgement."

Rickman flushed. "Did you know anything of Miss Harden, then?"

"Not I. Never set eyes on her. She might have been as ugly as sin for
all I knew. I risked that."

"What did Sir Frederick say to your generous proposal?"

Dicky's face became luminous at the recollection. "He said he'd see me
d--d first. But I meant it. I'd do it to-morrow if she asked me
prettily."

"Have you any notion how she'll be left after all this?"

"Yes. There's the house, and her mother's money. Freddy couldn't get
at that. When it's all settled up she can't be so badly off, I fancy.
Still it's a beastly back-hander in the face, poor girl. By Jove, she
does stand up to it in form, too. Too d----d well bred to let you know
she's hit. You wouldn't think she'd be plucky, to look at her, would
you? It's queer how the breeding comes out in a woman."

Rickman held himself in with difficulty. When pearls are cast before
swine you look for depreciation as a matter of course; you would be
infinitely more revolted if, instead of trampling them under their
feet, the animals insisted on wearing them in their snouts. So
Pilkington rootling in Miss Harden's affairs; Pilkington posing as
Miss Harden's adviser; Pilkington adorning his obscene conversation
with Miss Harden's name, was to Rickman an infinitely more abominable
beast than Pilkington behaving according to his nature. But to quarrel
with Pilkington on this head would have provoked the vulgarest of
comments, and for Miss Harden's sake he restrained himself.

Dicky remained unconscious. "I'm glad you put me up to offering some
of those books back. It goes against me to sell them, but what the
devil am I to do?"

"_I_ can't tell you."

"I shan't collar all this furniture, either. I'll buy in some of it
and return it. The decent thing would be to give her back poor
Freddy's portrait."

He passed his hand over a bunch of bananas,--he selected one, pinched
it, smelt it, put it down and took another.

"It's a pity it's a Watts, that portrait," he