“So did I, but it isn't. It hasn't appealed to the imagination of this haggis-brained public, and so funds remain stationary. As if this worry and disappointment isn't enough for a man! _Point d'argent, point de Suisse_. No money, no colony. No colony, no marriage. The two things could never be connected save in the ineffable convolutions of the feminine brain.” “I see,” said Sylvester. “It is hard lines on you.” He was intensely relieved by Roderick's confidences; could afford even to be magnanimous. Since his avowal to Ella of hostile intentions, he had felt it his duty to inform Roderick of his attitude. He had come this morning prepared to make a declaration of war. There were several little things he had learned incidentally of Roderick's past career, with which he had intended to confront him. The memory of Mr. Snodgrass informing the small boy that he was going to begin came into his mind as he mounted the stairs, and he smiled grimly. But, after all, no one had ever questioned the chivalry of Mr. Snodgrass's motives. His first words on entering were an announcement of the object of his visit. Roderick had implicitly declared that object to be futile. To proceed further would be to attack a fallen man. To express satisfaction would be to triumph over a foe's discomfiture. He therefore expressed conventional sympathy. It was hard lines. Roderick caught up the phrase and wove it into a fugue of indignant lamentation. Luck never came his way. The stars in their courses had fought against him since his cradle. “Some men's touch turns everything to gold; mine to brass and deuced gimcrack brass at that. I've never loved a dear gazelle; but if I had, the disastrous animal would have got mange or delirium tremens and turned round and bitten me and given me hydrophobia. I suppose it's because of my general nefariousness. I wish I had been an austere embodiment of the seven deadly virtues like you, _amigo_. Then I should have waxed fat and prosperous. But there,” he added, lighting a cigar, “that's enough. I don't know why I'm washing you in this torrent of my discontent.” “If it has done you any good, I am not sorry to have heard it,” said Sylvester. “As for the Colony, I never did think much of the idea, you know. It is outside the sphere of practical affairs altogether. Besides, you could never stay more than a month away from Piccadilly.” “It meant a means of livelihood for this profitless child of nature, anyway,” said Roderick, watching the wreaths of his cigar-smoke. “Pardon me if I take a liberty,” said Sylvester, “but I was under the impression that your father made you a good allowance.” Roderick stared at him for a moment and then laughed loud.