ick of the coals, just the
faintest ruffle from the wind in the trees of the park. And it was
cosily warm, only the fire lightening the darkness. A drowsy beatitude
pervaded the old man. A good day's work! A triumph--that young pup had
said. Yes! Something of a triumph! He had held on, and won. And dinner
to look forward to, yet. A nap--a nap! And soon, rhythmic, soft,
sonorous, his breathing rose, with now and then that pathetic twitching
of the old who dream.

III

1

When Bob Pillin emerged from the little front garden of 23, Millicent
Villas ten days later, his sentiments were ravelled, and he could not
get hold of an end to pull straight the stuff of his mind.

He had found Mrs. Larne and Phyllis in the sitting-room, and Phyllis
had been crying; he was sure she had been crying; and that memory still
infected the sentiments evoked by later happenings. Old Heythorp had
said: "You'll burn your fingers." The process had begun. Having sent
her daughter away on a pretext really a bit too thin, Mrs. Larne had
installed him beside her scented bulk on the sofa, and poured into his
ear such a tale of monetary woe and entanglement, such a mass of present
difficulties and rosy prospects, that his brain still whirled, and only
one thing emerged clearly-that she wanted fifty pounds, which she would
repay him on quarter-day; for their Guardy had made a settlement by
which, until the dear children came of age, she would have sixty pounds
every quarter. It was only a question of a few weeks; he might ask
Messrs. Scriven and Coles; they would tell him the security was quite
safe. He certainly might ask Messrs. Scriven and Coles--they happened to
be his father's solicitors; but it hardly seemed to touch the point. Bob
Pillin had a certain shrewd caution, and the point was whether he was
going to begin to lend money to a woman who, he could see, might borrow
up to seventy times seven on the strength of his infatuation for her
daughter. That was rather too strong! Yet, if he didn't she might take a
sudden dislike to him, and where would he be then? Besides, would not
a loan make his position stronger? And then--such is the effect of love
even on the younger generation--that thought seemed to him unworthy. If
he lent at all, it should be from chivalry--ulterior motives might go
hang! And the memory of the tear-marks on Phyllis's pretty pale-pink
cheeks; and her petulantly mournful: "Oh! young man, isn't money
beastly!" scrape