"Your mother has gone out with the girls," Mr. Browning said in a pathetic and dejected tone. "I quite urged her doing so, though not equal to the exertion myself. She is the better, I feel sure, for an occasional turn in the open air. Well, Fulvia, what had you to say, my dear?—if it is not business. I am not in a condition for business just now." "I am afraid it verges on business," said Fulvia. Mr. Browning put up one hand, as if to ward off an enemy; yet she continued, "About my money—" Mr. Browning's face grew perceptibly paler, and the apprehensive look in his eyes increased. He was not commonly wanting in colour, though it could hardly be called a healthy tint. Now a wan hue crept over his features, and he held one hand to his side. "I cannot, indeed," he said; "I am not equal—" "But this is not business to try you—not accounts or calculations. I don't want to bother you with anything disagreeable—lawyer's business, I mean. I only want to say a few words. You know I shall be twenty-one very soon—on the 21st of next month—and December is nearly here." "So soon!" Those two words had the sound of a groan. "Yes, very soon. But that need not be any worry to you—need it? If the thought of a fuss on the day is a trouble, we'll give it up, and have no fuss. I don't care in the least, and I will speak to uncle Arthur. What I wanted to say to you is about the money that will be mine then—forty thousand pounds or thereabouts, is it not? I think Nigel said forty thousand. I suppose I shall have full control of it, or at least of the interest. I have been reckoning up, and the interest would amount to something like fifteen hundred a year, would it not?—more, perhaps. I don't know much about such matters, practically. Fifteen hundred a year of my own would—" Fulvia stopped short, staring; for an extraordinary pallor had crept over Mr. Browning's face, and the lips were blue. His hand was pressed to his side still, and he leant back with half-closed eyes, is if overcome. But overcome by what? Not, surely, by what Fulvia was saying. "Padre, dear, am I really worrying you? I am so sorry. Indeed, I only want to say a few words, which I think may be a comfort. Won't you believe it, and listen for a moment?" "Not quite equal—" Mr. Browning tried again to murmur. "Another time—another time."