“Yes,” said Vanderbank all responsively, “but it isn’t as if you proposed to me, is it, anything dreadful? If one cares for a girl one’s deucedly glad she has money. The more of anything good she has the better. I may assure you,” he added with the brightness of his friendly intelligence and quite as if to show his companion the way to be least concerned--“I may assure you that once I were disposed to act on your suggestion I’d make short work of any vulgar interpretation of my motive. I should simply try to be as fine as yourself.” He smoked, he moved about, then came up in another place. “I dare say you know that dear old Mitchy, under whose blessed roof we’re plotting this midnight treason, would marry her like a shot and without a penny.” “I think I know everything--I think I’ve thought of everything. Mr. Mitchett,” Mr. Longdon added, “is impossible.” Vanderbank appeared for an instant to wonder. “Wholly then through HER attitude?” “Altogether.” Again he hesitated. “You’ve asked her?” “I’ve asked her.” Once more Vanderbank faltered. “And that’s how you know?” “About YOUR chance? That’s how I know.” The young man, consuming his cigarette with concentration, took again several turns. “And your idea IS to give one time?” Mr. Longdon had for a minute to turn his idea over. “How much time do you want?” Vanderbank gave a headshake that was both restrictive and indulgent. “I must live into it a little. Your offer has been before me only these few minutes, and it’s too soon for me to commit myself to anything whatever. Except,” he added gallantly, “to my gratitude.” Mr. Longdon, at this, on the divan, got up, as Vanderbank had previously done, under the spring of emotion; only, unlike Vanderbank, he still stood there, his hands in his pockets and his face, a little paler, directed straight. There was disappointment in him even before he spoke. “You’ve no strong enough impulse--?” His friend met him with admirable candour. “Wouldn’t it seem that if I had I would by this time have taken the jump?” “Without waiting, you mean, for anybody’s money?” Mr. Longdon cultivated for a little a doubt. “Of course she has struck one as--till now--tremendously young.” Vanderbank looked about once more for matches and occupied a time with relighting. “Till now--yes. But it’s not,” he pursued, “only because she’s so young that--for each of us, and for dear old Mitchy too--she’s so interesting.” Mr. Longdon had restlessly stepped down, and Vanderbank’s eyes followed him till he stopped again. “I make out that in spite of what you said to begin with you’re conscious of a certain pressure.” “In the matter of time? Oh yes, I do want it DONE. That,” Nanda’s patron simply explained, “is why I myself put on the screw.” He spoke with the ring of impatience. “I want her got out.” “‘Out’?” “Out of her mother’s house.” Vanderbank laughed though--more immediately--he had coloured. “Why, her mother’s house is just where I see her!”