I can easily wait for it now." "Save trouble, if I send it.

Eh ?" "Do you wish to see whether you can afford it, sir ?" "I wish to see you show more sense--with your confounded 'afford.' Have you any idea of bankers' books ?--bankers' accounts ?" Mr.Pole fished his cheque-book from a drawer and wrote Wilfrid's name and the sum, tore out the leaf and tossed it to him.

"There, I've written to-day.

Don't present it for a week." He rubbed his forehead hastily, touching here and there a paper to put it scrupulously in a line with the others.
Wilfrid left him, and thought: "Kind old boy! Of course, he always means kindly, but I think I see a glimpse of avarice as a sort of a sign of age coming on.

I hope he'll live long!" Wilfrid was walking in the garden, imagining perhaps that he was thinking, as the swarming sensations of little people help them to imagine, when Cornelia ran hurriedly up to him and said: "Come with me to papa.