The face was sunless; even about the lips and eyes there was no trace of gentleness or sweetness. The cruelly hard lines in the face of this man spoke of severity, austerity, absolutism, and declared, "Life is bitter; it is a battle of brute forces, and he who wins by strength of character, by dogmatism, by harshness, achieves a moral victory, and proves himself worthy. There is but one course--bend all the forces of your will, all the power of your strength, to crush those whose ways are not your ways, whose belief is not your belief. There is not room for all; some have no business here. To be human is not to be humane." Lily's heart grew faint as she gazed at this stern face, and it was only by a strong effort that she wrested her attention from it. She was glad when she was out in the sunshine and among the flowers again, and her lightheartedness soon returned. Alfred's mood was more subdued. Lily did not notice when they started from home that his gaiety was forced, and that he seemed to be playing a part; but it was so. His cheerfulness was only assumed. Notwithstanding the outward evidences of prosperity he displayed, he was in trouble again. In immediate trouble, that is. For, like a very numerous class, so long as his circumstances were easy for to-day, he was easy in his mind. He rarely looked beyond; sufficient for the day was the good thereof. But to-morrow comes inevitably, and it came to Alfred, and brought trouble to his door. Nearly all his racing speculations had gone against him. The race for the Goodwood Cup, the winner of which he was so confident of having "spotted," as the phrase is, had proved disastrous to him. The acceptance for seventy-five pounds which he had given to Con Staveley would soon be due, and he had not the means to meet it. He had borrowed the money of Mr. Sheldrake, and he had given that gentleman he did not know what documents as security, security of the frailest, as his friend took care to tell him.