sioner on his wife's bounty; not the human beast maddened by
fear and dissipation, half stunned, half panic-stricken, driven by sheer
terror into a role which even he shrank from--had shrunk from all these
years. For, leech and parasite that he was, Mortimer, however much
the dirty acquisition of money might tempt him in theory, had not yet
brought himself to the point of attempting the practice, even when in
sorest straits and bitterest need. He didn't want to do it; he wished to
get along without it, partly because of native inertia and an aversion
to the mental nimbleness that he would be required to show as a
law-breaker, partly because the word "black-mail" stood for what he did
not dare suggest that he had come to, even to himself. His distaste was
genuine; there were certain things which he didn't want to commit, and
extortion was one of them. He could, at a pinch, lie to his wife, or try
to scare her into giving him money; he could, when necessary, "borrow"
from such men as Plank; but he had never cheated at cards, and he had
never attempted to black-mail anybody except his wife--which, of course,
was purely a family matter, and concerned nobody else.

Now he was attempting it again, with more sincerity, energy, and
determination than he ever before had been forced to display. Even in
his most profane violence the rage and panic were only partly real. He
was, it is true, genuinely scared, and horribly shaken physically, but
he had counted on violence, and he stimulated his own emotions and made
them serve him, knowing all the while that in the reaction his ends
would be accomplished, as usual. This policy of alternately frightening,
dragooning, and supplicating Leila had carried him so far; and though
it was true that this was a more serious situation than he had ever yet
faced, he was convinced that his wife would pull him out somehow; and
how that was to be accomplished he did not very much care, as long as he
was pulled out safely.

"What this household requires," he said, "is economy." He spread his
legs, denting the Aubusson carpet with his boot-heels, and glanced
askance at his wife. "Economy," he repeated, furtively wetting his lips
with a heavily coated tongue; "that's the true solution; economical
administration in domestic matters. Retrenchment, Leila! retrenchment!
Fewer folderols. I've a notion to give up that farm, and stop trying to
breed those damfool sheep. They cost a thousand apiece, and do you