"You've never said you're sorry for the horrible thing you said to me----" and, as he looked at her, still silent, "Oliver! you surely don't think that Rabbit----Why, he's never even squeezed my hand!" "Stop!" he cried roughly. "Don't be silly, Bella. Of course I don't think anything of the kind. I accept absolutely what you tell me of your relations with Henry Buck." "Why, there have been no relations with Henry Buck and me," she cried, protesting. "What a hateful word to use, Oliver!" But he was already out of the door, making his way to the only human being in whom he still felt complete confidence, who, he knew, loved him, in the good old homely sense of the word. * * * * * "My dear boy, what _is_ the matter?" Fanny sat up. She had been lying down on the sofa in the sitting-room of her lodgings. Oliver had explained to the servant that he was Mrs. Burdon's brother, and he had been allowed to make his own way up to the drawing-room floor. "There's a good deal the matter," he said. "The fact is I've made a fool of myself, Fanny,--and I've come to you for help." Fanny looked up at him, and what she saw checked the words on her lips. She was wide awake now, but rather painfully conscious that she looked untidy. Her smart voile gown--voile was the "smart" material that season--was crumpled. And Oliver's wife, Bella, was always so dreadfully, so unnaturally, tidy and neat,--it was one of the things that perhaps made people think her so much prettier than she really was. "Of course I will help you," she answered briskly. "Tell me all about it." "Have you still that five thousand pounds Cousin Andrew left you?" "Why of course I have,--and it's rather more now, for luckily we didn't put it into Consols; we put it into a Canadian security." "Is it invested in Dick's name?" Dick's wife laughed. "No, of course it isn't," she said. "Why should it be?" "Could you get at it without Dick's knowing?" "Yes, I suppose I could." There was a touch of wonder in her voice. "Fanny, I want you to lend me four thousand pounds." Oliver spoke huskily. He was staring out of the window. His sister looked at him rather queerly for a moment: "Yes, of course I will," she said. And, as he turned to her, his face working,--"You needn't make a fuss about it, dear old boy. You'll pay me back all right, I know that." "I'll insure against it, and I'll pay you proper interest for it--whatever you're getting now," he said. "And we'll get a lawyer to see that it's all made safe." "That'll be all right," said Fanny, and then again she gave him that curious, considering look.