Half an hour later there came a knocking at the door.

I opened it and found Lord Alfred Douglas.
"May I come in ?" he asked.

"I'm glad you've not gone to bed yet." "Of course," I said, "what is it ?" He was pale and seemed extraordinarily excited.
"I have had such a row with Oscar," he jerked out, nervously moving about (I noticed the strained white face I had seen before at the Cafe Royal), "such a row, and I wanted to speak to you about it.

Of course you know in the old days when his plays were being given in London he was rich and gave me some money, and now he says I ought to settle a large sum on him; I think it ridiculous, don't you ?" "I would rather not say anything about it," I replied; "I don't know enough about the circumstances." He was too filled with a sense of his own injuries; too excited to catch my tone or understand any reproof in my attitude.
"Oscar is really too dreadful," he went on; "he is quite shameless now; he begs and begs and begs, and of course I have given him money, have given him hundreds, quite as much as he ever gave me: but he is insatiable and recklessly extravagant besides.

Of course I want to be quite fair to him: I've already given him back all he gave me.