"Not the slightest. I can't get a cent on it, and I can't sell it, and I can't use it in any way. Jarvey Peel was a silly old ass. Died worth no end of coin, and didn't leave me a penny." "But if you died, Jim?" "Drop it," retorted Kaimes, who did not at all relish the suggestion. "Well, but supposing you did?" insisted Leah. "Then I 'spose the money would be paid to you," said Jim, kicking the hearth-rug with a gloomy face; "but don't you make any mistake, Leah. I'm goin' to live right on to sixty and handle the money. I can't do much at that age, but I'll try hard to get through the lot before I slip off." "And what about me?" "Oh, you must look after yourself," said Jim, heartlessly; "but if you can think of some scheme to get the cash now, I'll give you half--there now. There's nothing mean about me." "What's the use of talking rubbish?" said Lady Jim, crossly; "you won't die." "Not to oblige you, my dear, so don't think it." "Then don't let us talk any more of the impossible." "Is it impossible?" asked Kaimes, cunningly. Leah looked at him with wide, bright eyes. "What is it?" she asked. "I might _pretend_ to die, you know," said Jim, looking at her very directly; "then the cash 'ud be paid to you, and we could share." "But it's ridiculous," cried Leah, raising her eyebrows; "you would have to give up your position and disappear." "Who cares? You know I never stop longer in England than I can help. As to my position, it's all debts and duns, and squabbling with you. Oh, I'd give up the whole thing for the money!" "You never think of me." "Got enough to do to think of myself," grumbled Kaimes; "'sides, you don't care for me. As a widow you could have lots of fun on--on, say--five thousand." "That's right, Jim, take the lion's share to yourself." "Well, shouldn't I be paying the largest price for getting the cash?" Leah shrugged her shoulders again. "There would be very little sacrifice in it so far as you are concerned," she said. "You've been three times to South America since we were married, and I presume with this money you would go there again." "I'd go out of your life for ever." "Oh, well," she said coolly; "I could show my respect to your memory by wearing a widow's dress. I expect I should look rather nice in a cap." Lord Jim was rather disgusted. Little as he loved his wife, he expected her to be devotedly attached to him, and her ready acquiescence in his disappearance annoyed him greatly. "You've got no heart." "How clever of you to guess that! I gave it to you five years ago." "And took it back before the honeymoon was over." "Well, you see, Jim, you are so careless a man that I could not think of leaving the only heart I possess in your hands. Besides, so many women have given you their hearts that I thought you might confuse the lot."