nt that I should like to have your serious opinion about it. Only
we won't talk now. I am very tired, and you, I'm sure, oughtn't to sit
late with your bad throat. I promise to consider _both_ the things you
mentioned.'

She held her hands to him charmingly, and kissed his cheek as she said
goodnight.

Harvey lingered for another hour, and--of all people in the
world--somehow found himself thinking of Buncombe. Buncombe, his
landlord in the big dirty house by Royal Oak. What had become of
Buncombe? It would be amusing, some day to look at the old house and
see if Buncombe still lived there.

CHAPTER 7

They never talked about money. Alma took it for granted that Harvey
would not allow their expenditure to outrun his income, and therewith
kept her mind at rest. Rolfe had not thought it necessary to mention
that he derived about three hundred pounds from debenture stock which
was redeemable, and that the date of redemption fell early in this
present year, 1891. He himself had all along scarcely regarded the
matter. When the stock became his, 1891 seemed very remote; and on
settling in North Wales he felt financially so secure that the question
of reinvestment might well be left for consideration till it was
pressed upon him.

As now it was. He could no longer disregard percentages; he wanted
every penny that his capital would yield. Before marriage he would have
paid little heed to the fact that his canal shares (an investment which
he had looked upon as part of the eternal order of things) showed an
inclination to lose slightly in value; now it troubled him day and
night. As for the debenture stock, he might, if he chose, 'convert' it
without withdrawal, but that meant a lower dividend, which was hardly
to be thought of. Whither should he turn for a security at once sound
and remunerative? He began to read the money article in his daily
paper, which hitherto he had passed over as if it did not exist, or
turned from with contemptuous impatience. He picked up financial
newspapers at railway bookstalls, and in private struggled to
comprehend their jargon, taking care that they never fell under his
wife's eyes. At the Metropolitan Club--of which he had resumed
membership, after thinking that he would never again enter clubland--he
talked with men who were at home in City matters, and indirectly tried
to get hints from them. He felt like one who meddles with something
forbidden--who pries, shamefaced, into the