The flame of hostility sank at the mention of money. They stood gazing at one another. Each was aware that, within twelve hours of peace being declared, the old feud had all but broken out. Jehane was frightened by the knowledge and self-scornful at her lapse into temper. Ocky was congratulating himself on the dexterous lie with which the crash had been averted. “Thirty pounds! And you kept it so quiet!” He twirled his mustaches fiercely, straddling the doormat, all boldness and bullying self-righteousness now. “This little boy may be vulgar sometimes, but he isn't silly--far from it.” “But how did you do it?” She leant against him with both her hands on his arm, trying to make his eyes meet hers. “You wouldn't understand. Watched the market, yer know. Sold out just in time--last moment in fact.” “You _are_ clever--that's what I kept telling Billy and Nan.” “Think so? I've sometimes thought so myself.” He held his face away from hers as she pushed to the door and put her arms about his neck. “And yet you were treating me like a fool just now. You're too ready at calling me silly and vulgar. I get tired of it.” As he spoke he had in mind the firm way in which a masterful person like Barrington would act. “You've got to stop it, Jehane. It's the last time I mention it.” “I know I'm unfair--unfair to you, to myself, to all of us. Oh, Ocky, be patient with me; I do so want to be better.” She hid her face against his shoulder in contrition and unhappiness. Ocky was a generous enemy. He found it easy to forgive, being a sinner himself. “There, there! That's awright, Duchess. Don't cry about it---- But I brought this matter up 'cause I think you ought to have your money back.” She stared at him in surprise. “Ought to! Why, what d'you mean? Is it a punishment? I don't understand.” He set his hat far back on his forehead. “I'm not trying to hurt your feelin's; but you don't trust me. Never have. It's anxious work handling the money of a woman who don't trust you. If I were to make a mistake, you'd give me hell--I mean, the warmest time I've ever had. I'd rather--much rather--you took your money back.” He was drifting away from her--already she had pushed him from her. Something must be done. “It's you who don't trust me, if you think that.” Her tones quivered with reproach as she said it. “Then you want me to go on investing for you?” “Of course.” “You're sure of it?” “Quite, _quite_ sure of it.” “Then always remember, I tried to make you take it back and you wouldn't. Isn't that so?” “Yes, I wouldn't.” “Awright, I'll do my best; but I do it under protest, don't forget.” “Oh, Ocky, everything that we have we share.” He kissed her and passed out into the street with alacrity; she might get to considering his motives. But at the garden gate he hesitated, dawdled, and came back. “Look here, I don't want Barrington nosing into my affairs. If I do this for you it's between ourselves.” “I shouldn't think of telling Barrington.”