m, be once more earning his pound a week in this room! What a happy
man he was in those days!

Nearly half an hour passed. It is the common experience of beggars
to have to wait. Then Carter came in with quick step; he wore a heavy
ulster of the latest fashion, new gloves, a resplendent silk hat; his
cheeks were rosy from the east wind.

'Ha, Reardon! How do? how do? Delighted to see you!'

'Are you very busy?'

'Well, no, not particularly. A few cheques to sign, and we're just
getting out our Christmas appeals. You remember?'

He laughed gaily. There was a remarkable freedom from snobbishness in
this young man; the fact of Reardon's intellectual superiority had long
ago counteracted Carter's social prejudices.

'I should like to have a word with you.'

'Right you are!'

They went into a small inner room. Reardon's pulse beat at fever-rate;
his tongue was cleaving to his palate.

'What is it, old man?' asked the secretary, seating himself and flinging
one of his legs over the other. 'You look rather seedy, do you know. Why
the deuce don't you and your wife look us up now and then?'

'I've had a hard pull to finish my novel.'

'Finished, is it? I'm glad to hear that. When'll it be out? I'll send
scores of people to Mudie's after it.

'Thanks; but I don't think much of it, to tell you the truth.'

'Oh, we know what that means.'

Reardon was talking like an automaton. It seemed to him that he turned
screws and pressed levers for the utterance of his next words.

'I may as well say at once what I have come for. Could you lend me ten
pounds for a month--in fact, until I get the money for my book?'

The secretary's countenance fell, though not to that expression of utter
coldness which would have come naturally under the circumstances to a
great many vivacious men. He seemed genuinely embarrassed.

'By Jove! I--confound it! To tell you the truth, I haven't ten pounds
to lend. Upon my word, I haven't, Reardon! These infernal housekeeping
expenses! I don't mind telling you, old man, that Edith and I have been
pushing the pace rather.' He laughed, and thrust his hands down into
his trousers-pockets. 'We pay such a darned rent, you know--hundred and
twenty-five. We've only just been saying we should have to draw it mild
for the rest of the winter. But I'm infernally sorry; upon my word I
am.'

'And I am sorry to have annoyed you by the unseasonable request.'

'Devilish seasonable, Reardon, I assure you!' cr