failed to begin on the morning when she had been so sympathetic concerning his difficulties in collecting a large income.  Her movements from day to day were mysterious.  Facts pointed to the probability that she and Emanuel were seeing each other with no undue publicity.  And yet, despite facts, despite her behaviour at the party, he could scarcely believe that shrewd Helen had not pierced the skin of Emanuel and perceived the emptiness therein.  At any rate, Emanuel had not repeated his visit to the house.  The only visitors had been Sarah Swetnam and her sister Lilian, the fiancee of Andrew Dean.  The chatter of the three girls had struck James as being almost hysterically gay.  But in the evening Helen was very gloomy, and he fancied a certain redness in her eyes.  Though Helen was assuredly the last woman in the world to cry, she had, beyond doubt, cried once, and he now suspected her of another weeping.

Even more detrimental to his triumph in his own heart was the affair of the ten-pound note, which she had stolen (or abstracted if you will) and then restored to him with such dramatic haughtiness.  That ten pounds was an awful trial to him.  It rankled, not only with him, but (he felt sure) with her.  Still, if she had her pride, he also had his.  He reckoned that she had not rightly behaved in taking the note without his permission, and that in returning the full sum, and pretending that he had made it necessary for her to run the house on her own money, she had treated him meanly.  The truth was, she had wounded him—­again.  Instincts of astounding generosity were budding in him, but he was determined to await an advance from her.  He gave her money for housekeeping, within moderation, and nothing more.

Then one evening she announced that the morrow would be her birthday.  James felt uneasy.  He had never given birthday presents, but he well knew that presents were the correct things on birthdays.  He went to bed in a state of the most absurd and causeless mental disturbance.  He did not know what to do.  Whereas it was enormously obvious what to do.

He woke up about one o’clock, and reflected, with an air of discovery:  “Her tone was extremely friendly when she told me it was her birthday to-morrow.  She meant it as an advance.  I shall take it as an advance.”

About half-past one he said to himself:  “I’ll give her a guinea to spend as she likes.”  It did genuinely seem to him a vast sum.  A guinea to fritter away!

However, towards three o’clock its vastness had shrunk.

“Dashed if I don’t give the wench a fiver!” he exclaimed.  It was madness, but he had an obscure feeling that he might have had more amusement if he had begun being mad rather earlier in life.

Upon this he slept soundly till six o’clock.

His mind then unfortunately got entangled in the painful episode of the ten-pound note.  He and Helen had the same blood in their veins.  They were alike in some essential traits.  He knew that neither of them could ever persuade himself, or herself, to mention that miserable ten-pound note again.