THE look of illness that Morland had noticed upon Jimmie's face was due to the fact that he had been ill. Italian townlets nestling on hillsides are picturesque, but they are not always healthy. A touch of fever had laid him on his back for a week, and caused the local doctor to order him to England. He had arrived in a limp condition, much to the anxiety of Aline, who had expected to see the roses return to his cheek as soon as their slender baggage had passed the custom-house. He was shabbily dressed because he had fallen on evil times, and had no money to waste on personal vanities. The four guineas which Aline had put aside out of their limited resources to buy him a new suit he had meanly abstracted from the housekeeping drawer, and had devoted, with the surreptitious help of the servant, to purchasing necessary articles of attire for Aline. He was looking worried because he had forgotten in which of the cheap Oxford Street restaurants he had promised to meet that young lady. When he remembered, the cloud passed from his face and he darted across the road behind Morland's brougham. He found Aline seated primly at a little marble table on which were a glass of milk and a lump of amorphous pastry for herself, and a plate of cold beef and a small bottle of Bass for Jimmie. It was too early for the regular crowd of lunchers--only half-past twelve--and the slim, erect little figure looked oddly alone in the almost empty restaurant. Jimmie nodded in a general, kindly way at the idle waitresses about the buffet, and marched down the room with a quick step, his eyes beaming. He sat down with some clatter opposite Aline, and took two cheques, a bank-note and a handful of gold and silver from his pocket, and dumped them noisily on the table. “There, my child. Seven pounds ten. Twenty-five guineas. Five pounds. And eight pounds three-and-six-pence. Exit wolf at the door, howling, with his tail between his legs.” Aline looked at the wealth with knitted brow. “Can I take this?” she asked, lifting up the five-pound note. Jimmie pushed the pile towards her. “Take it all, my dear. What on earth should I do with it? Besides, it's all your doing.” “Because I made you go and dun those horrid dealers? And even now Hyam has only given you half. It was fifty guineas--Oh, Jimmie! Do you mean to say you forgot? Now, what did you tell him? Did you produce the agreement?” Jimmie looked at her ruefully. “I'm afraid I forgot the wretched agreement. I went in and twirled my moustache fiercely, and said 'Mr. Hyam, I want my money.'” Aline laughed. “And you took him by the throat. I know. Oh, you foolish person!” “Well, he asked me if twenty-five would be enough--and it's a lot of money, you know, dear--and I thought if I did n't say 'yes,' he would n't give me anything. In business affairs one has to be diplomatic.”