He had turned round, with a vague disturbed motion, not knowing what he did, and stood for a moment looking at the sunshine on the carpet, and his own figure which intercepted it and received the glory instead. For a moment his lip quivered; the lines of his face moved as if a wind had blown over them; his eyes fixed on the light, as if he expected to see some miraculous sight. And then he gave a harsh laugh, and turned round with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s pretty,” he said, “mother, as you put it: but there’s no time to enter into all that. I’ve perhaps got too much to clear up with God, don’t you know, to do it at a sitting; but I’ll remember, for your sake, when I’ve time. Eh? where were we before this little picturesque incident? You were saying I should have money--to pay my fare, &c. Well, that’s fair enough. Make it enough for two, and we’ll be off, eh, Bob? and trouble her no more.” But Robbie did not say a word. It was not any wise resolution taken; it was rather a fit of temper, which the other, used to his moods, knew would pass away. Lew gave another shrug of his shoulders, and even a glance of confidential criticism to the mother, as if she were in the secret too. “One of his moods,” he said, nodding at her. “But, bless you! when one knows how to take him, they don’t last.” He touched her shoulder with a half caress. “You go and lie down a bit and rest. You’re too tired for any more. We’ll have it all out to-night, or at another time.” “I am quite ready now--I am quite ready,” she cried, terrified to let the opportunity slip. He nodded at her again, and waved his hand with a smile. “Come along, Bob, come along; let us leave her in quiet. To-night will be soon enough to settle all that--to-night or--another time.” He took Rob by the arm, and pushed his reluctant and half-resisting figure out of the room. Robert was sullen and indisposed to his usual submission. “Let me go,” he said, shaking off the hand on his arm; “do you think I’m going to be pushed about like a go-cart?” “If you’re a go-cart, I wish you’d let me slip into you,” said the other. It was not a very great joke, but Robert at another moment would have hailed it with a shout of laughter. He received it only with a shrug of his shoulders now. “I wish you’d make up your mind and do something,” he said. “I have: the first thing is to see who that woman is----” “A woman! when you’ve got to run for your life.” “Do you think I mean any nonsense, you fool? She’s not a woman, she’s a danger. Man alive, can’t you see? She’ll have to be squared somehow. And look here, Bob,” he said suddenly, putting his arm through that of his friend’s, who retained his reluctant attitude--“don’t sulk, you ass: ain’t we in the same boat--get all you can out of the old girl. We’ll have to make tracks, I suppose--and a lot of money runs away in that. Get everything you can out of her. She may cool down and repent, don’t you see? Strike, Bob, while the iron’s hot. The old girl----”