h I w-wasn't always c-crying about
everything--after all--he c-can't kill me more than once, can he? But
he's such a beast. He h-hates anyone else to h-have a good time and tell
lies. He's always so j-jolly glad to let into me or mother--and when he
finds out we've been stuffing him he--he goes mad--and preaches for days
and days. Mother's a brick. She gave me a shilling to put back--but
he--he keeps her short, and she has to tell about every penny. She says
she'll have to pretend she lost it. And it's not enough, anyway.
Oh--Robert, you don't know what a row there'll be."

But Robert knew. He felt the cruel familiar ruffling of the nerves. He
heard the thud of his father's step, the horrible boom of his father's
voice, "You're a born liar, Christine--you're making my son into a liar."
It was as though Dr. Stonehouse had pushed off the earth that covered him
and stood up.

It was awful that Rufus should be frightened too. It wasn't fair. He
wasn't strong enough.

"I say--we'll have to do something. How much did you take out?"

"'Bout three shillings--there was an extra penny or two--p'r'aps he
wouldn't notice that, though--I thought p'r'aps--oh, I don't know what I
thought--but I had to come to tell you--I hadn't anyone else----"

Robert nodded. He stopped and looked back towards the big central tent.
It had grown at once larger and vaguer. The lighted entrance had a sort
of halo round it like the moon before it is going to rain. There was an
empty, sinking feeling in his stomach, and he too had begun to tremble, in
little, uncontrollable gusts. He let go his hold on Rufus's hand so that
he should not know.

"I've got two bob--somewhere," he heard himself saying casually and rather
grandly.

He knew now that he would never see her again. There was no struggle in
his mind, because there did not seem to be any choice. It wasn't that
little Cosgrave counted more--he hardly counted at all in that moment.
But she, if she knew he existed, would expect him to do the right, the
fine thing. Francey would have expected it. And she was only a mere
girl. How much more this noble, wonderful woman? It was better than
clapping. Somewhere at the back of his mind was the idea that he offered
her a more gallant tribute, and that one day she would know that he had
stuck up for Cosgrave for her sake, and, remote and godlike though she
was, be just a little pleased. The comfort of it was a faint warm light
sh