et them pass, bowing slightly.

Neither Margerison said anything. Hilary's bow was the stage copy of his
own; Peter didn't look at him at all, but hurried by.

The servant let them out, and shut the hall door behind them.

Lord Evelyn said to his nephew in the library, swinging his eye-glass
restlessly to and fro, "Why do you let those people into your house,
Denis? I thought we had done with them."

"They came to call," said Denis, who did not seem disposed to be
communicative. "I can't say why they chose this particular hour."

Lord Evelyn paced up the room, restless, nervous, petulant.

"It's monstrous," he said querulously. "Perfectly monstrous. Shameless.
How dare they show their faces in this house?... I suppose they wanted
something out of you, did they?"

Denis merely said, "After all, Peter is my cousin by marriage, you must
remember. And I have never broken with him."

Lord Evelyn returned, "The more shame to you. He's as great a swindler as
his precious brother; they're a pair, you can't deny that."

Denis didn't attempt to deny it; probably he was feeling a little tired
of the Margerisons to-night.

"I'm not defending Peter, or his brother either. I only said that he's
Lucy's cousin, and she's very fond of him, and I'm not keen on actually
breaking with him. As to the brother, he's so much more of an ass than
anything else that to call him a swindler is more than he deserves. He
simply came here to-night to play the fool; he's no more sense than a
silly ass out of a play."

That was what Peter was telling Hilary on the way to the station. Hilary
defended himself rather feebly.

"My good Peter, we must have money. We are in positive want. Of course, I
never meant to proceed to extremities; I thought the mere mention of such
a threat would be enough to make him see that we really were desperately
hard up, and that he might as well help us. But he doesn't care. Like all
rich people, he is utterly callous and selfish.... Do you think Lucy
would possibly give us any help, if you asked her?"

"I shan't ask her," said Peter. "Don't, please, Hilary," he added
miserably. "Can't you _see_...."

"See what? I see that we get a little more destitute every day: that
the boarders are melting away; that I am reduced to unthinkably sordid
hackwork, and you to the grind of uncongenial toil; that Peggy can't
afford to keep a cook who can boil a potato respectably (they were like
walnuts to-day) that she and the