nd she waved a tiny georgette kerchief from the window
as he passed down the street and out of her life. He had not a great
deal of leisure to consider the extent of his loss. The proceedings of
the coroner's court and the importunities of creditors occupied his
days very fully. The chaos of his father's affairs and the winding up
of his own provided ample entertainment. The net result was a
settlement of something less than a farthing in the pound and the
retirement into oblivion of one of the most able spendthrifts of the
twentieth century. He had spent a couple of months looking for work,
but the name Frencham Altar, coupled with his complete inability to
point to a single marketable asset other than courage and a smiling
disposition, conspired together to harden the hearts of employers. Old
friends denied him interviews, business acquaintances turned him from
their doors and the casual advertiser forbore replying to his
enquiries. Of course, if he had been a little less honest he might
very easily have cleaned up a quiet thousand or two from the wreckage
of the estate. His solicitor had demonstrated the absurdity of
Quixoticism in such affairs, but whatever other reproach might be laid
to his account, Richard was no opportunist and lacked the parental
liking for feathering his own nest at the expense of his fellows.
Wherefore the whole of his worldly resources, if we except the courage
and the smile, went into the whirlpool and were swallowed up.

Richard let the curtain fall across the window and crossed to the
mantelpiece where he touched the bell. It occurred to him that there
was a certain luxury in ringing bells--it was one of many comforts of
civilisation that would pass out of his reach. No one answered the
bell so he rang it again and was quite dispirited to hear footsteps
ascending the stairs. If his connection with bells was to cease it
would have been pleasant to have rung it a few more times. It is an
awful thing to contemplate that you have rung a bell for the last time.
One can get very sentimental over a thing like that. Dear jolly old
bells, what an influence they have upon life. How bravely they whirr
at the arrival of a dear expected--how madly they riot to the tune
Wedding--how sadly they toll when the last of us is borne away.

Mrs. Walton, the landlady, came into the room and said "Yes."

"I am going now," said Richard.

"We shall be sorry to lose you."

"And I to go. Many th