They were sitting at the window of a famous hotel at Brighton, whither they had gone together for a day’s lounge. It was a pleasant summer day, and after dinner, when Paul, smoking a cigar somewhat rapidly and drinking a little more wine than was customary for him to drink, said: “I have been trying to tell you about something that has happened to me lately.” “Yes,” said Mr. Williamson, in his lazy fashion putting up his legs upon a vacant chair, and nodding a smiling signal of approval. Paul hesitated, and said it was rather a long story, and he fidgetted with a tassel that hung from the sword he had laid upon the window seat. “All right, _mon gallant homme_, proceed!” said the literary barrister. Paul gave a long pull and a strong pull at his cigar, and said he would proceed. “I must tell you,--I can’t rest unless I do,--so here goes.” “Open confession is good for the soul,” said Mr. Williamson; “the auricular business is not to my fancy. But there, go on, Lieutenant, I am getting interested.” “About a month ago Captain Macshawser gave me a tip about a certain steeple-chase, and his information turned out wrong, and----” “You laid a wager and lost, yes,” said Mr. Williamson, looking out to the sea, and smoking with perfect content. “And then, in order to get back what I lost, I ventured to take the odds about Fleetwing, and was unsuccessful again,” said Paul, with boyish frankness. “Very good; I am glad of it,” said Mr. Williamson. “I hope you have been so well punished that you will, like the burnt child, dread the fire in the future.” Paul did not like the quiet tone of authority and rebuke in which his friend appeared to speak; but he felt that the barrister was in the right, and had his interest at heart. “You don’t sympathise with me much?” said Paul, moving uneasily in his seat, and smoking by fits and starts. “O yes, I do, Lieutenant--O yes, I do; I fancy that Macshawser’s a humbug; but I interrupt your narrative.” “Well; these losses, and some extra expenditure which I felt called upon to make in a little dinner to some fellows belonging to the Guards, run away with my allowance twice over before I knew where I was.” “You have been going it, as the saying is,--been fast in the double sense. We say a man is fast who is fond of gaiety, keeps late hours, bets on horse races, and takes ‘tips.’ In Yorkshire, a man who is ‘hard up’ is said to be fast,--fast for money. Are you fast for money now? If so, how much do you want?” said Mr. Williamson still, looking before him far away at the ships in the distance. “You had better let me tell you the whole story through,” Paul replied. “I was ashamed to let anybody know that I wanted money; I could not summon courage even to tell you, and should not have had courage to do so even now but for another circumstance which has arisen out of it.” “You are too modest,” said Mr. Williamson.