o Charlie's old bedroom with a tray in her hands.

"I had to stay. I couldn't leave the girl. I'm sleeping in her old
room."

"The worst of these kids' rooms," said Mr. Prohack, with an affectation
of calm, "is that there are no easy chairs in them. It never struck me
before. Look here, you sit on the bed and put the tray down _there_,
and I'll occupy this so-called chair. Now, I don't want any sermons. And
what is more, I can't eat unless you do. But I tell you I'm very hungry.
So would you be, if you'd had my day."

"You won't sleep if you eat much."

"I don't care if I don't. Is this whiskey? What--bread and cheese? The
simple life! I'm not used to it.... Where are you off to?"

"There came a letter for you. I brought it along. It's in the other
bedroom."

"Open it for me, my good child," said Mr. Prohack, his mouth full and
his hands occupied, when she returned. She did so.

"It seems to me that you'd better read this yourself," she said,
naughtily.

The letter was from Lady Massulam, signed only with her initials,
announcing with a queer brevity that she had suddenly decided to go back
at once to her native country to live.

"How strange!" exclaimed Mr. Prohack, trying to be airy. "Listen! What
do you make of it. You're a woman, aren't you?"

"I make of it," said Eve, "that she's running away from you. She's
afraid of herself, that's what she is! Didn't I always tell you? Oh!
Arthur. How simple you are! But fancy! At her age! Oh, my poor boy!
Shall you get over it?" Eve bent forward and kissed the poor boy, who
was cursing himself for not succeeding in not being self-conscious.

"Rot!" he exploded at last. "I said you were a woman, and by all the
gods you are! Give me some more food."

He was aware of a very peculiar and unprecedented thrill. He hated to
credit Eve's absurd insinuation, but...! And Eve looked at him
superiorly, triumphant, sure of him, sure of her everlasting power over
him! Yet she was not romantic, and her plump person did not in the least
symbolise romance.

"I've a piece of news for you," he said, after a pause. "After to-night
I've done with women and idleness. I'm going into business. I've bought
half of that paper-making concern from your singular son, and I'm going
to put it on its legs. I know nothing about paper-making, and I can only
hope that the London office is not as dirty and untidy as the works. I'd
no idea what works were. The whole thing will be a dreadful worry,