And he knew that he had reached it.
Never again would he sleep in his dining-room and wake with the light filtering through those curtains bought by Winifred at Nickens and Jarveys with the money of James.

Never again eat a devilled kidney at that rose-wood table, after a roll in the sheets and a hot bath.

He took his note case from his dress coat pocket.

Four hundred pounds, in fives and tens--the remainder of the proceeds of his half of Sleeve-links, sold last night, cash down, to George Forsyte, who, having won over the race, had not conceived the sudden dislike to the animal which he himself now felt.

The ballet was going to Buenos Aires the day after to-morrow, and he was going too.