asked, as she paused.

"That we haven't any capital to speak of," she said. "Even after we have
sold the furniture here, we shan't have more than five or six hundred
pounds so far as we can make out. And he says it isn't enough. He says
that he and mother are too old to start again from small beginnings.
And--oh! a heap of practical things. He is so slow in some ways that it
startled us all to find out how shrewd he was about this. It was his own
subject, you see."

"There needn't be any difficulty about capital," I said eagerly. I had
hardly had patience for her to finish her speech. From her first mention
of that word "capital" I had seen my chance to claim a right in the
Banks's fortunes.

"I don't see..." she began, and then checked herself and continued
stiffly, "My father would never accept help of any kind."

"Arthur might--from a friend," I said.

"He thinks we've got enough--to begin with," she replied. "They've been
arguing about it. Arthur's young and certain. Father isn't either, and
he's afraid of going to a strange country--and failing."

"But in that case Arthur must give way," I said.

Anne was silent for a moment and then said in a horribly formal voice. "Am
I to understand, Mr. Melhuish, that you are proposing to lend Arthur this
money?"

"On any terms he likes," I agreed warmly.

"Why?"

I could not mistake her intention. I knew that she expected me to say that
it was for her sake. I was no less certain that if I did say that she
would snub me. Her whole tone and manner since she had come out to the
gate had challenged me.

"Here we are alone in the moonlight," her attitude had said. "You've been
trying to hint some kind of admiration for me ever since we met. Now, let
us get that over and finished with, so that we can discuss this business
of my father's."

"Because I like him," I said. "I haven't known him long, of course; only a
few hours altogether; but..." I stopped because I was afraid she would
think that the continuation of the argument might be meant to apply to her
rather than to Arthur; and I had no intention of pleading by innuendo.
When I did speak, I meant to speak directly, and there was but one thing I
had to say. If that failed, I was ready to admit that I had been suffering
under a delusion.

"Well?" she prompted me.

"That's all," I said.

"Weren't you going to say that it wasn't how long you'd known a person
that mattered?"

"It certainly didn't matter in Arth