"Well?" said he. "Am I to stay here all night?" "That's just what you'd better do. You won't get any good out of that lot; and so I tell you. You'll lose your money and get into nasty drinking ways: don't you go there any more." "Upon my word, Lydia, you preach as well as old Clifton does." "And do you just as much good, I dare say." "Just as much. You've hit it exactly." "I thought so. You aren't the sort to take any heed. One may preach and preach--" "How well you understand me! No, as you say, I am not the sort to get any good from preaching. You are quite right, Lydia: my character requires kindness, sympathy and a latch-key--especially requires a latch-key." "Especially requires a fiddlestick!" said Lydia; and, disregarding his smiling "Not at all," she went on in an injured tone: "There's ma worrying over accounts, and likely to worry for the next hour. How am I to get a key from under her very nose?" Lisle seemed to reflect: "Old Fordham doesn't have one, I suppose." "Gracious! No, not he! If you gave him one he'd drop it as if it was red hot. He thinks they're wicked." There was a pause, but after a few moments there stole through the silence a sweetly insinuating voice: "Then, Lydia--" Lydia half turned away and put up her left shoulder. "Then, Lydia, I suppose you wouldn't--" "You'd better keep on supposing I wouldn't." "Can't suppose such cruelty for more than a moment--can't really. No, listen to me"--this with a change of voice: "I must go out this evening. Upon my soul, it's important. I'm in a fix, Lydia. I've not breathed a word to any one else, and wouldn't for worlds, but you'll not let it out, I know. If I'm lucky enough to get out of the scrape to-night, I'll never get into it again, I can tell you." "You will," said Lydia. "I swear I won't. And if not--" "Well? if not?" "Why, I must try another plan to get free. I sha'n't like it, but I must. But there'll be a row, and I shall have to go away. I'd a good deal rather not." "What sort of plan?" she asked curiously. "Desperate," he answered, and shook his head. "What is it?" Her eyes were widely opened in excitement and alarm. "You ain't going to be driven to forge something, like people in novels? Or--or--it isn't a big robbery, is it? Oh, you wouldn't!" The face opposite looked so smiling and candid and innocent that it made the words she had hazarded an obvious absurdity, even to herself, as soon as she had uttered them. "Why not a murder?" said Lisle. "I think it shall be a murder. Upon my word, you're complimentary! No, no, I don't mean to try my hand at any of them." She smiled, relieved. "But I must go out to-night. Lydia, will you let me in once more?" "Once more? You won't ask again?" "Never again." There was a pause: "Didn't you say that last time?" "Lydia, you are the unkindest girl--" "Well, then, I will." "No, you are the kindest."