I never was a good hand at remembering dates, and this illness has thrown me altogether out of gear." Mr.Sheldon tore open that official document, which, in his benevolent regard for his friend's interest, he had manipulated so cleverly on the previous evening, and read the letter with all show of deliberation.
"You're right, Tom," he exclaimed presently.

"The twenty-one days' grace expire to-day.

You'd better write me a check at once, and I'll send it on to the office by hand.

Where's your check-book ?" "In the pocket of that coat hanging up there." Philip Sheldon found the check-book, and brought it to his friend, with Georgy's portfolio, and the frivolous little green-glass inkstand in the shape of an apple.

He adjusted the writing materials for the sick man's use with womanly gentleness.