feigned to be busy with his
accounts and his orderly little pile of money. Miss Belmont stooped
at the table, and when Mr. Berry entered he found her initialling the
pay-sheet. She looked up with a sweet smile, nodded a greeting to him,
inspected the contents of the envelope, transferred them to her purse,
and moved to the door; then she turned.

'Oh, Mr. Armstrong, would you mind taking the trouble to run down to
my lodgings when you have got through with this? I have something very
particular to ask you, if you don't mind. You know where I'm staying?
Thank you _so_ much. Good-afternoon.'

She was gone, and everything was gone. Paul made a mechanical effort to
get through his business.

'I say, young Armstrong,' cried Mr. Berry, 'you're woolgathering; you've
given me an extra fiver, or has old Darco found out what I'm worth at
last?'

'My mistake,' said Paul; 'I don't know what I'm doing. I've got a
beastly headache; I can't think or see.'

'Hair of the dog?' suggested Mr. Berry. 'Hi! Chips, old sonnie'--he was
bawling down the staircase--' catch 'Oh, butter-fingers! There it is,
just behind you. Half-a-crown. Just nip across, will you? Two Scotches
and a split. Take a pull at your own tap while you're there, and look
slippy. Armstrong, dear boy, you're looking very chalky. Don't overdo
it, dear boy, whatever you do. In my youth I never did apply hot and
rebellious liquors to the blood. I take to 'em very kindly now, but I
never began till thirty. A man's a seasoned cask at thirty.'

Paul let him talk, and was glad enough not to be further noticed. He sat
with his head in his hands and stared at the table, and tried to
realize what life would be without Claudia. It looked wholly vacant and
intolerable.

'Here you are,' said Mr. Berry, releasing the soda-water with a pop, and
foaming the contents of the bottle into the glasses.

Paul groaned and drank, and by-and-by felt a little better. He would see
Claudia, would decide on some scheme of action, however desperate, which
would prevent him from wholly losing sight of her. He would release
himself from his engagement with Darco. That made him feel like a hound,
for who had been so good to him as Darco? Who had taken him out of
hunger and trouble but Darco? He recalled himself characterless,
despairing; he contrasted his old lot with the present. The change was
all of Darco's working, and he had grown to love the man, and the man
on his side had given proofs eno