g with money--Steady, old chap!"

In the crowd of people waiting for their tables, they were little
noticed, these two--Dauncey struggling against the faintness, the
rising in his throat, the strange moisture in his eyes, Jacob talking
nonsense as hard as he could and affecting to disregard these unusual
conditions. Soon he had his friend safely seated opposite him, forced
him to drink his cocktail, gave cheerful orders to the waiter, and
produced a brand new pocketbook, which he laid upon the table.

"Richard," he announced, "there's a hundred pounds in that. Away with
it, pocketbook and all. Now put the soles of your feet firmly on the
ground and think what you're going to say to Nora when you get home.
You've stood up against some nasty knocks. Now just tell yourself that
they're all over. We'll take a feast home to-night. Waiter, open the
wine. By Jove, I've heard that pop for other fellows often enough, but
not one for myself for two years and more."

"Jacob," Dauncey faltered, "I can't say a word, but I'm all right. And
God bless you," he added, raising his glass and drinking. "God bless
you, Jacob! You're a pal."

After that, the thing was accepted as part of their lives, and they
talked reasonably.

"This afternoon," Jacob confided, "I am going to be measured for half
a dozen suits of clothes. I am going to prowl about Bond Street and
gratify the longings of a lifetime for variegated hosiery. At five
o'clock, Richard, I shall call for you at your office. By the bye, you
had better ask them how soon they can let you go."

"They won't worry about that," Dauncey answered, a little bitterly.
"Every Saturday for months has been a nightmare to me, for fear I'd
get the sack. They don't think I'm smart enough for my job there--not
smart enough even for three pounds a week!"

"Just let them know what you think about them, for a change," Jacob
enjoined. "Three pounds a week, indeed! Tell them you've accepted a
post at five hundred a year with a financier who needs your advice
with his investments. That'll give them something to think about!"

"It will!" Dauncey admitted, with a smile. "They'll think I've gone
mad."

"Let 'em think what they choose," Jacob insisted. "You come out of it
with your nose in the air and leave your office coat behind for the
errand boy. They'll always be worried to think that you must have been
a great deal smarter than they gave you credit for."

"I'll do my best," Dauncey promised.