"If you only knew how I longed to take you in my arms, and keep you there. But what's the good of longing?" "You can take me in your arms--and keep me there--for about ten seconds." "Yes, I know; I know that you're a darling, the sweetest girl in the world, but what right have I to do it? What prospect have I of ever making you my wife? All debts, and nothing to pay them. What would your uncle say if he came upon us now? Wouldn't he warn me off the premises, as my brother has done? You know, my dear, you're not for such as I am. I don't want to say anything unkind, but don't you see, can't you see, that the only thing left for me to do is to withdraw and leave the field open for a better man?" "Sydney, this time you must have come a cropper." There was that in the girl's tone which, in spite of himself, brought a real smile to the young man's lips. "I have. You're right. One which is going to make an end of me." The girl shook her head gaily. "Oh, no, it won't. I know you better. You've been coming croppers ever since I have known you, and that's all my life, some of them awful croppers; there must have been quite twenty from which you were never going to rise again. But you've managed, and you'll manage again. Only, really, I do wish you'd get out of the habit, if only for a while." "Vi, you don't understand, this time you really don't. I'm done. I went to my brother as a last resource--you may be pretty sure it was a last resource--for the money which was the only thing that could save me. I am quite serious. He told me he would not give me so much as a sovereign; he even refused me a night's lodging. That means, as I tell you, that I'm done. I don't know quite what will happen to me, but something not pretty. When you and I meet again it is quite possible it will not be as equals; I shall be in a class of which you do not take social cognisance." Again the young lady shook her head; if again it was with an attempt at gaiety, there was something which looked very much like tears in her eyes. "What a cropper you must have come; it makes my blood run cold to hear you talking. Have you been robbing a bank?" "I might as well have done. I'm likely to be in as awkward a position as if I had." The girl looked at him steadily; his eyes met hers. Each might have been looking into the other's soul. "Sydney, do you still love me?" "Wouldn't it be better for you if I were to tell you straight out that I don't? Think, wouldn't it?" "No, it wouldn't; it would be much worse. It would be a cowardly thing to say, and also, I happen to know, an untrue one. I know that you do still love me. I only asked you for the sake of hearing your answer. You do." "It has become a habit." "And habits are not things which are easily rooted up." "So it would seem."