Winnington duly arrived at luncheon. The two ladies appeared to him as usual--Gertrude Marvell, self-possessed and quietly gay, ready to handle politics or books, on so light a note, that Winnington's acute recollection of her, as the haranguing fury on the Latchford waggon, began to seem absurd even to himself. Delia also, lovely, restless, with bursts of talk, and more significant bursts of silence, produced on him her normal effect--as of a creature made for all delightful uses, and somehow jangled and out of tune. After luncheon, she led the way to her own sitting-room. "I am afraid I must talk business," she said abruptly as she closed the door and stood confronting him. "I am overdrawn, Mr. Winnington, and I must have some more money." Winnington laid down his cigarette, and looked at her in open-mouthed amazement. "Overdrawn!--but--we agreed--" "I know. You gave me what you thought was ample. Well, I have spent it, and there is nothing left to pay house bills, or servants with, or--or anything." Her pale defiance gave him at once a hint of the truth. "I fear I must ask what it has been spent on," he said, after a pause. "Certainly. I gave L500 of it in one cheque to Miss Marvell. Of course you will guess how it has been spent." Winnington took up his cigarette again, and smoked it thoughtfully. His colour was, perhaps, a little higher than usual. "I am sorry you have done that. It makes it rather awkward both for you and for me. Perhaps I had better explain. The lawyers have been settling the debts on your father's estate. That took a considerable sum. A mortgage has been paid off, according to directions in Sir Robert's will. And some of the death duties have been paid. For the moment there is no money at all in the Trust account. I hope to have replenished it by the New Year, when I understood you would want fresh funds." He sat on the arm of a chair and looked at her quietly. Delia made no attempt at explanation or argument. After a short silence, she said-- "What will you do?" "I must, of course, lend you some of my own." Delia flushed violently. "That is surely absurd, Mr. Winnington! My father left a large sum!" "As his trustee I can only repeat that until some further securities are realised--which may take a little time--I have no money. But _you_ must have money--servants and tradesmen can't go unpaid. I will give you, therefore, a cheque on my own bank--to replace that L500." He drew his cheque book from his breast pocket. Delia was stormily walking up and down. It struck him sharply, first that she was wholly taken by surprise; and next that shock and emotion play finely with such a face as hers. He had never seen her so splendid. His own pulses ran. "This--this is not at all what I want, Mr. Winnington! I want my own money--my father's money! Why should I distress and inconvenience you?" "I have tried to explain." "Then let the lawyers find it somehow. Aren't they there to do such things?"