"That's the word for it, Miss Armstrong," he said, "I am brutal when it comes to a bargain. I try to make the very best I can for myself. I never think of the artist at all. I want all the _£ s d_ to go into my own pocket"--and here he slapped his waistcoat loudly, and uttered a harsh laugh, which showed all his broken teeth in a most disagreeable manner. Miss Armstrong and her mother seemed to think he was excellent fun, and Mrs. Armstrong said, with a quick glance first at Mr. Randolph and then at me, that it was refreshing to hear any man so frank, and that for her part she respected people who gave themselves no h'airs. Breakfast came to an end, and I sought Jane in her sanctum. "Now, Jane," I said, "you must put away your accounts, you must cease to think of housekeeping. You must listen to me." "What is it, Westenra?" she said. "Has anything vexed you?" she continued; "sit down and tell me all about it." "Several things vex me," I answered. "Jane, we must come to an understanding." "What about?" she asked in some alarm; "an understanding! I thought that was all arranged when our legal agreement was drawn up." "Oh, I know nothing about lawyers nor about legal agreements," I answered; "but, Jane, there are some things I cannot put up with, and one of them is----" "I know," she answered; "Mr. Fanning." "He is horrible, hateful; he is going to make himself most hateful to me. Jane, dear Jane, he must go." Jane looked puzzled and distressed. I expected her to say-- "He shall certainly go, my dear, I will tell him that his room is required, and that he must leave at the end of the week." But on the contrary she sighed. After a long pause she said-- "You want this house to be a success, I presume." "I certainly do, but we cannot have it a success on the present arrangement. Mr. Fanning must go, and also Mr. Randolph." "Mr. Randolph, Mr. James Randolph!" said Jane, now colouring high, and a sparkle of something, which seemed to be a curious mixture of fear and indignation, filling her eyes. "And why should he go? You do not know what you are talking about." "I do. He must go. Ask--ask Mrs. Furlong. They talk about him here, these hateful people; they put false constructions on his kindness; I know he is kind and he is a gentleman, but he does me harm, Jane, even as much harm as that horrible Mr. Fanning." "Now, look here, Westenra Wickham," said Jane Mullins. "Are you going to throw up the sponge, or are you not?" "Throw up the sponge! I certainly don't mean to fail."