Sir Geoffrey caught at the doubt--"It's not so bad as that--I don't think it's so bad. When the season's over and the new company secure, we shall put a new plant in and insure the place properly. And meanwhile we are awfully careful. I was two hours there to-day myself, seeing what the workmen had done; and it was quite a little thing--put out in a moment." "But you don't know anything about electricity, do you, sir?" asked Ned quietly, "and I thought you said it was insured." Sir Geoffrey's face reddened. "Yes, in a way. Hirsch insured when he came in. He wouldn't put his money in without it." "Would he put his wife and children in, I wonder?" asked Ned bitterly. "But I still don't quite understand about the insurance----" Sir Geoffrey fidgeted. "I'll get Hirsch to explain. It's all right, I believe, though. But they'll insure anything nowadays, if you pay a decent premium--any mortal thing." He paused and stood the image of hopeless perplexity; and then--rather to his relief--the dinner gong sounded. "Good Lord! And I'm not dressed," he muttered, "we'd better go." But as he reached the stairs where they divided, he held out that friendly, welcoming, family hand again, saying:--"Thanks, Ned, it's been such an awful relief not to be thinking of money. I suppose when one comes into so much as you have, that--that you don't think of it any more?" Was it so, Ned Blackborough wondered. Hardly; for Mr. Hirsch had millions and still thought of more. No! he personally had been tired of money for some time. _Caveat emptor_ was an excellent legal if not absolutely moral axiom; but when men allowed your millions to confuse the issue in their treatment of you, then--then one could wish the millions were not in the equation! And of late--ever, in fact, since he had left the floating deposit and had seen Aura--he smiled at the remembrance of her standing framed in scarlet and white, handing back the sovereign with that peremptory "Take it please!" Why should not he and she go forth in the wilderness in their sandalled feet to forget--and to remember? That was life. To forget so much, and to remember so much that one had forgotten. He pulled himself up after a time from the unaccustomed line of thought or reverie, telling himself it was all nonsense--sheer nonsense. Yet it was attractive. Suddenly the words "Go! sell all that thou hast," recurred to him, making him wonder if it were a hard saying or no. For the moment he felt inclined to obey it literally.