'I daresay there are people who would do a great deal for you,' he suggested in sly banter. Peggy flushed again. 'I shouldn't ask anyone like that. I couldn't.' She broke off, indignant with herself; she had taken almost a confidential tone. 'It's not your concern where or how I get it.' 'You express the view I've always taken most exactly, Miss Ryle.' He was openly deriding her, but she hardly hated him now. He was too strange to hate, she was coming to think. She smiled at him as she asked a question:-- 'Does money always make people what you are?' 'Money?' Fricker stood with his hands in his pockets, seeming a little puzzled. 'I mean, always bothering with it and thinking a lot of it, you know.' 'Oh, no! If it did, all men of business would be good men of business, and luckily there are plenty of bad.' 'I see,' said Peggy. 'Well, I'll come back if I get the money, Mr. Fricker.' 'I'm glad Connie gave you some tea.' 'We had a very nice talk, thank you.' 'I won't ask you to remember me to Mrs. Trevalla.' 'She's not to know I've seen you. You've put that in the letter?' 'Bless my soul, I'd forgotten! How valuable that written record is! Yes, you'll find it there all right. The transaction is to be absolutely confidential so far as Mrs. Trevalla is concerned.' He escorted her to the door. As they passed through the hall, Connie's voice came from upstairs:-- 'Won't Miss Ryle take a glass of wine before she goes, papa?' Fricker looked at Peggy with a smile. 'I don't drink wine,' said Peggy, rather severely. 'Of course not--between meals. Connie's so hospitable, though. Well, I hope to see you again.' 'I really don't believe you do,' said Peggy. 'You love money, but----' 'I love a moral lesson more? Possibly, Miss Ryle; but I at least keep my bargains. You can rely on my word if--if you come again, you know.' Peggy's hansom was at the door, and he helped her in. She got into the corner of it, nodded to him, and then sank her face far into the fluffy recesses of a big white feather boa. All below her nose was hidden; her eyes gleamed out fixed and sad; her hands clutched the little bag very tightly. She had so hoped to bring it back empty; she had so hoped to have a possible though difficult task set her. Now she could hear and think of nothing but those terrible figures set out in Fricker's relentless tones--'Four thousand pounds!' Fricker turned back into his house, smiling in ridicule touched with admiration. It was all very absurd, but she was a girl of grit. 'Straight too,' he decided approvingly. Connie ran downstairs to meet him. 'Oh, what did she want? I've been sitting in the drawing-room just devoured by curiosity! Do tell me about it, papa!' 'Not a word. It's business,' he said curtly, but not unkindly. 'Inquisitiveness is an old failing of yours. Ah!' His exclamation was called forth by an apparently slight cause. Connie wore a white frock; to the knees of it adhered a long strip of fawn-coloured wool.