'Well, Mr. Dering is seventy-five. But he will not die yet, not for a long time to come. He is made of granite: he is never ill: he never takes a holiday: he works harder than any of his people; and he keeps longer hours. To be sure, if he were to die without taking a partner--well--in that case, there would be an end of everything, I suppose.--Elsie, here's the position.' She knew it already, too well--but it pleased them both to parade the facts as if they were something quite novel. 'Let us face it'--they were always facing it. 'I am Managing Clerk to Dering & Son--I get two hundred pounds a year--I have no prospect of anything better. I am bound all my life to be a servant. Elsie, it is not a brilliant prospect: I found out at school that it was best not to be too ambitious. But--a servant all my life--I confess that did not enter into my head. If I knew any other trade, I would cut the whole business. If there was any mortal thing in the whole world by which I could keep myself, I would try it. But there's nothing. I have but one trade. I can't write novels, or leading articles; I can't play on any instrument; I can't paint or act or sing or anything--I am only a solicitor--that's all. Only a solicitor who can't get on--a clerk, Elsie. No wonder her ladyship turns up her nose--a clerk.' He leaned his chin upon his hands and laughed the conventional laugh of the young man down on his luck. 'Poor George!' she sighed. In such a case there are only two words of consolation. One may say 'Poor George!' or one may say 'Patience!' There is nothing else to say. Elsie first tried one method and then the other, as a doctor tries first one remedy and then another when Nature sulks and refuses to get well. 'And,' he went on, piling up the misery, 'I am in love with the sweetest girl in the whole world--and she is in love with me!' 'Poor George!' she repeated with a smile. 'That is indeed a dreadful misfortune.' 'I am wasting your youth, Elsie, as well as my own.' 'If it is wasted for your sake, George, it is well spent. Some day, perhaps----' 'No--no--not some day--immediately--at once.' The young man changed colour and his eyes sparkled. It was not the first time that he had advanced this revolutionary proposal. 'Let prudence go to the----' 'Not there, George--oh! not there. To the winds, perhaps, or to that famous city of Palestine. But not there. Why, we might never get her back again--poor Prudence! And we shall be sure to want her all our lives--very badly. We will, if you please, ask her to go for a short voyage for the benefit of her health. We will give her six months' leave of absence: but we shall want her services again after her holiday--if you think we can do without her for so long.' 'For a whole twelvemonth, Elsie. Let us brave everything, get married at once, live in a garret, and have a splendid time--for a whole twelvemonth--on my two hundred pounds.' 'And am I to give up my painting?'