“You know that I can’t,” he answered irritably.  “I had to send the lot to Lewis, and then it wasn’t a quarter of what he is pressing for.  We shall never get through the season, Ruth, unless—­”

She raised her eyes.

“Unless what?”

“Unless something turns up!”

There was a short, uncomfortable silence.  Lady Ruth rose to her feet and stood facing the fireplace with her back to him.

“Lumley,” she said, “let’s face it!”

He gave a little start.

“Face what?” he inquired.

“Ruin, the Bankruptcy Court, and all the rest of it!” she declared, a note of defiance creeping into her tone.

Her husband’s face was white with astonishment.  He stared across at her blankly.

“Are you mad, Ruth?” he exclaimed.  “Do you know what you are saying?”

“Quite well,” she answered.  “I’m a little sick of the whole show.  The tradespeople are getting impertinent.  I don’t even know where to get flowers for dinner tonight or where to go for my Ascot gowns.  It must come sooner or later.”

“You’re talking like a fool,” he declared harshly.  “Do you know that I should have to give up my seat and my clubs?”

“We could live quietly in the country.”

“Country be—­hanged!” he exclaimed savagely.  “What use is the country to you and me?  I’d sooner put a bullet through my brain.  Ruth, old lady,” he added more gently, “what’s gone wrong?  You’re generally such a well plucked’un!  Have you—­had a row with Wingrave?” he asked, looking at her anxiously.

“No!”

“Then what is it?”

“Nothing!  I’ve lost my nerve, I suppose!”

“You want a change!  It isn’t so very long to Cowes now and, thank heavens, that’ll cost us nothing.  We’re going on Wingrave’s yacht, aren’t we?”

“Yes!  We did accept.”

Barrington fidgeted for a moment with a paper knife.

“Ruth,” he asked, “what’s wrong between you and Wingrave?”

“Nothing,” she answered; “I’m afraid of him, that’s all!”

“Afraid of him!  Afraid of Wingrave!” he repeated.

“Yes!  I do not think that he has forgotten.  I think that he means to make us suffer.”

Barrington was almost dignified.

“I never heard such nonsense in my life, Ruth!” he exclaimed.  “I have watched Wingrave closely, and I have seen no trace of anything of the sort.  Nonsense!  It is worse than nonsense!  You must be getting hysterical.  You must get all this rubbish out of your head.  To tell you the truth—­”

“Well?”

“I was thinking that you might ask Wingrave to help us a bit.  I don’t believe he’d hesitate for a moment.”

Ruth looked her husband in the face.  There was a curious expression in her eyes.

“Do you think that it would be wise of me to ask him?” she demanded.

“Why not?” he answered.  “You can take care of yourself.  I can trust you.”