"All right, but getting old, Pattie. I'm engaged in digging my own grave." "Oh, nonsense, you're quite fit still. I say, have you heard about me?" "Lots of things." "No, don't be silly. I mean, that I'm going to be married?" "No, are you, by Jove? Who's the happy man?" "Georgie Parmenter. Do you know him? He's awfully nice." "I know his father. May I proffer advice? Get that arrangement put down in writing. Then at the worst it'll be worth something to you." Miss Pattie was not at all offended. She laughed merrily. "They always said you were pretty wide-awake, and I believe it!" she observed. "He'll have ten thousand a year when his father dies." "In the circumstances you mention he won't have a farthing a year till that event happens, I'm afraid, Pattie. A man of strong prejudices, old Sir George." "Well, I'm sure I've got letters enough to----" "That's all right. I shall watch the case with interest." He yawned again and rose to his feet. "Tom's pretty dull, isn't he?" asked Miss Pattie with a comical pout. "Yes, Tom's pretty dull, certainly." "I'm sleepy," said Tom Courtland. "So am I. I shall go home," and Caylesham walked off to bid the lady of the house good-night. The lady of the house came into the hall and helped him on with his coat. It appeared that she wanted to have a word with him--first about the wisdom of backing one of his horses, and secondly about Tom Courtland. Caylesham told her on no account to back the horse, since it wouldn't win, and waited to hear what she had to say about Tom. "I'm distressed about him, Frank," she said. "You know I do like Tom, and I never saw a man so down in the mouth." Her face was rather coarse in feature and ruddy in tint, but kindly and good-natured; her concern for Tom was evidently quite genuine. "What a devil that wife of his must be!" "She has her faults. Perhaps we have ours. Be charitable, Flora." "Oh, you can be as sarcastic as you like. Heaven knows I don't mind that! But I'm worried to death about him, and about what she'll do. And then there's the money too. I believe he's hard up. It's very tiresome all round. Oh, I don't care much what people say of me, but I don't want to go through the court again, if I can help it." "Which of the two courts do you refer to?" he asked, as he buttoned his coat. "Bankruptcy or----?" "Either of them, Frank, you old fool!" she laughed. "Send him back to his wife. You'll have to soon, anyhow--when the money's gone, you know. Do it now--before those two men come and stand opposite to see who goes in and out of the house." "But the poor chap's so miserable, Frank; and I like him, you see." "Ah, I can't help you against honest and kindly emotions. They're not part of the game, you know." "No, they aren't; but they come in. That's the worst of it," sighed Mrs. Bolton. "Well, good-night, Frank. We shall get through somehow, I suppose." "That's the only gospel left to this age, Flora. Good-night."