f the Conservative Club. Doubtless he knew how to lay his hand
instantly on a proposer and seconder. Edwin did not follow him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

FIVE.

That evening, conscious of responsibility and of virtue, Edwin walked up
Trafalgar Road with a less gawky and more dignified mien than ever he
had managed to assume before. He had not only dismissed programmes of
culture, he had forgotten them. After twelve hours as head of a
business, they had temporarily ceased to interest him. And when he
passed, or was overtaken by, other men of affairs, he thought to himself
naively in the dark, "I am the equal of these men." And the image of
Florence Simcox, the clog-dancer, floated through his mind.

He found Darius alone in the drawing-room, in front of an uncustomary
fire, garden-clay still on his boots, and "The Christian News" under his
spectacles. The Sunday before the funeral of Mr Shushions had been so
unusual and so distressing that Darius had fallen into arrear with his
perusals. True, he had never been known to read "The Christian News" on
any day but Sunday, but now every day was Sunday.

Edwin nodded to him and approached the fire, rubbing his hands.

"What's this as I hear?" Darius began, with melancholy softness.

"Eh?"

"About Albert wanting to borrow a thousand pounds?" Darius gazed at him
over his spectacles.

"Albert wanting to borrow a thousand pounds!" Edwin repeated,
astounded.

"Aye! Have they said naught to you?"

"No," said Edwin. "What is it?"

"Clara and your aunt have both been at me since tea. Some tale as
Albert can amalgamate into partnership with Hope and Carters if he can
put down a thousand. Then Albert's said naught to ye?"

"No, he hasn't!" Edwin exclaimed, emphasising each word with a peculiar
fierceness. It was as if he had said, "I should like to catch him
saying anything to me about it!"

He was extremely indignant. It seemed to him monstrous that those two
women should thus try to snatch an advantage from his father's weakness,
pitifully mean and base. He could not understand how people could bring
themselves to do such things, nor how, having done them, they could ever
look their fellows in the face again. Had they no shame? They would
not let a day pass; but they must settle on the old man instantly, like
flies on a carcass! He could imagine the plottings, the hushed
chatterings; the acting-for-