One controlled their movements, arranging each day what visits should be paid on the next, and having two programmes ready each evening at six o’clock. The same man affixed the wafers and kept the accounts. Of the others two were always in attendance upon Mr. and Mrs. Cheviot, taking down their ‘opinions’ in shorthand and transcribing their notes the next day. In addition to their wages, which were high, two per cent. of the takings was handed to them and the footmen every week. Thus was efficiency encouraged, if not assured. Each evening, but at no other time, the Cheviots repaired to Old Bond Street to confer, sign their ‘opinions,’ peruse the additions to the register, and deal with any business that awaited them. It was at one such hour in mid-November, when the two were left alone behind the tall oak doors, that Blanche leaned back in her chair and looked at her watch. “A quarter of nine,” she said, “on a Saturday night. Since ten this morning between us we’ve netted twelve hundred and sixty quid. I lunched off a glass of milk at a quarter to three, and I’ve had nothing since. And now I’m too tired to eat. What about you?” “You may cut out the milk,” said Titus. “Never mind. The figures sustain me. This week’s been a record. Over six thousand——” “It’s a dog’s life,” said Blanche. “Why don’t we stop?” “Stop?” “Stop. Chuck it. Finish. We’ve made enough.” “My dear, you’re not serious?” “I am indeed,” said Blanche, “and a bit over.” “You can spend to-morrow in bed.” “I could spend six weeks in bed. I tell you, I’m through. This—this high-brow robbery’s getting beyond a joke. I haven’t been out for months. I don’t even know the name of a musical play. I’ve forgotten how to dance. Why, I haven’t changed for dinner since——” “Sunday last,” said Titus. “Never mind. What about it, my dear? One can’t have everything. I like changing myself, but if I can nobble a hundred by staying foul, I’ll make the sacrifice. Why, for half six thousand a week I’d sleep in my clothes. An’ we don’t have to.” “But what’s the good of it all if we don’t enjoy it?” “I hope to,” said Titus. “I hope to enjoy it very much.” “When?” said his wife. “When the boom’s over,” said Titus. “This sort of thing can’t last. Don’t you believe it. It’s just on the cards that it might hang on for a year, but——” “A year?” screamed Blanche. “Well, if it does you needn’t count on me. I’ve lost five months of my life and I’m not going to lose seven more.” “Lost?” cried Titus. “Oh, the girl’s mad. Twelve hundred a day, an’ she talks about ‘losing’ time.” He covered his eyes. “Give me strength,” he murmured. Then—“You only get one orange,” he said solemnly. “If you like to chuck it away before you’ve sucked it dry, you can do it all right. Nothing’s easier. But if you do you’ll repent it. For one thing, you’re flouting Fortune—throwing her goods in her face.”