Berkeley heard it in silence; his head still hung down, his color changing, his hands nervously playing with the bouquet-bottles, shutting and opening their gold tops.
"No--yes--I know," he said hurriedly; "I have no right to expect it, and have been behaving like a cur, and--and--all that, I know.

But--there is one way you could save me, Bertie, if it isn't too much for a fellow to ask." "I can't say I see the way, little one," said Cecil, with a sigh.

"What is it ?" "Why--look here.

You see I'm not of age; my signature is of no use; they won't take it; else I could get money in no time on what must come to me when Royal dies; though 'tisn't enough to make the Jews 'melt' at a risk.

Now--now--look here.