Barrington waited for him to reach his point--there _was_ a point he felt sure. Ocky's visits always had an ulterior motive. “Everything all right at Madeira Lodge?” “Topping.” “And the land investment?” “Fine.” “Then what brought you?” Ocky was as shocked as if a gun had been fired in his face. The question was unkind. He'd tried to be sociable and to stave off unpleasantness--and this was the thanks he got. He squirmed uneasily; the wicker-chair creaked, betraying his agitation. “That's a rotten thing to say to a fellow, Billy. What brought me, indeed!” It was Barrington's turn to shift in his chair. He hated to be called Billy by Waffles. The offence was repeated. “You're confoundedly direct, Billy. Whenever I visit you, you always think I've come to get something.” “And haven't you?” Barrington's voice was hard. “Well, I have, now you mention it.” A pause. Barrington lost patience. “Why can't you get it out like a man? You've done something while Jehane's been away--something that made you afraid to meet her. Haven't you?” “Jehane!---- In a sense it's her doing. Don't see why she should make me afraid.” “Her doing! In what way?” Ocky struck a match; finding his pipe empty, he held the match till it burnt his fingers. “I'm not blaming Jehane, but it _is_ her doing up to a point. She wants money to dress her girls up to the nines. She wants money to make the house look stylish. If it hadn't been for Jehane, I should never have left old Wagstaff's office. Mind, I'm not blaming her. But where was the money to come from?” “You let her believe you were making it.” “Eh? So I was. So I shall if I can only get time.” “Where'd you get the money she's already had?” “It's her money that I invested for her.” “You've been living on the principal--is that it? On the money that should have gone to Glory.” The tension proved too great for Ocky. A joke might relieve the situation. “Seems to me that's where it's gone.” When no laugh followed he hastened to add, “Financial pressure. Of course I'm sorry.” Then, “I want you to lend me enough to tide me over.” “I've been tiding you over all your life. You'll have to tell her. When you've told her, I'll see what I can do once more.” For the first time that evening the foolish tone of banter went out of the weak man's voice. “For God's sake! Don't make me do that. You don't know what a punishment you're inventing. D'you know what that'd do to her?--kill what little love she has for me. She'd hate me. She'd despise me even more than she does already. I've got to live with her. Oh, my God!” Barrington drew back into the shadow. He was deeply moved, and ashamed of it. The other man, goaded deeper into sincerity by his silence, continued, pleading brokenly.