He looked at his sister whilst she spoke, admiring her appearance whilst he scarcely attended to her words because he knew their import beforehand so painfully well. What a terribly expensive animal was a modern woman of the world! As costly as an ironclad and as complicated as a theatrophone. The loveliest product of an entirely artificial state, but the most ruinous, and the most irritating to those whom she ruined. He told himself that Daddy Gwyllian had been entirely right. And he hardened his heart against this beautiful apparition which with dewy lips, perfumed hair, and a delicious suggestion of a nymph fresh from a waterbrook, stood before him in that charming attitude of contrition and candor with which from her nursery days he had always known her tell her very largest lies. “So all the dirt you’ve eaten hasn’t done you any good,” he said curtly, after some minutes of silence. “What can you possibly mean?” said Mouse. Cocky chuckled feebly. He knew what his brother-in-law meant. “We can’t bleed Billy every day,” he murmured in an explanatory tone. “You seem to think you can bleed your father and myself whenever you please,” said Hurstmanceaux in his most incisive tones. “Lord, what else is one’s family for?” said Cocky candidly. His wife looked with impatience at the clock, for she had appointments which were agreeable. “Really, I think we’ve told you everything,” she said to her brother. “It is not nice of you to insult us in our troubles, but I am sure you mean to help us in the end, don’t you, Ronnie?” “I am extremely sorry,” said Hurstmanceaux. “But it is wholly out of my power to help you this time. Your debts are enormous. The only possible chance for you is to give up London life, and life in the world altogether, and go and retrench in the country. Why not at Black Hazel? It would be admirable for the children; and your creditors, if they knew you were really economizing, could probably be induced to wait. I see no other prospect possible.” “Don’t be a fool, Ronald,” said his sister curtly, throwing her handkerchief rolled in a ball to the dogs. Her husband stared through his eye-glass. “Ah--er--I thought you would make some practical suggestion; something feasible, you know!” Hurstmanceaux frowned. “So I do. When people are in your position they always withdraw to their Black Hazel or whatever their retreat is called. They don’t go on living in the world. Black Hazel is a delightful place. It will be much better than a second floor in Florence, or a boarding house in Dresden, which many people come to who are in your plight.” His sister looked at her watch. “My dear Ronald, I have no more time to spare you,” she said rather insolently. “And if you can suggest nothing more sensible than a second floor in Florence, or a bog in Ireland, I shall lose little by not hearing anything more that you may have to say.”