Christian, sitting down beside him, took up a fan.

“If I could get out of this heat—­” he said, and closed his eyes.

‘I must tell him,’ she thought; ‘I can’t slink away.’

“Pour me out some of that stuff, Chris.”

She reached for the jug.  Yes!  She must tell him!  Her heart sank.

Mr. Treffry took a lengthy draught.  “Broken my promise; don’t matter—­won’t hurt any one but me.”  He took up the pipe and pressed tobacco into it.  “I’ve been lying here with this pain going right through me, and never a smoke!  D’you tell me anything the parsons say can do me half the good of this pipe?” He leaned back, steeped in a luxury of satisfaction.  He went on, pursuing a private train of thought:  “Things have changed a lot since my young days.  When I was a youngster, a young fellow had to look out for peck and perch—­he put the future in his pocket.  He did well or not, according as he had stuff in him.  Now he’s not content with that, it seems—­trades on his own opinion of himself; thinks he is what he says he’s going to be.”

“You are unjust,” said Christian.

Mr. Treffry grunted.  “Ah, well!  I like to know where I am.  If I lend money to a man, I like to know whether he’s going to pay it back; I may not care whether he does or not, but I like to know.  The same with other things.  I don’t care what a man has—­though, mind you, Chris, it’s not a bad rule that measures men by the balance at their banks; but when it comes to marriage, there’s a very simple rule, What’s not enough for one is not enough for two.  You can’t talk black white, or bread into your mouth.  I don’t care to speak about myself, as you know, Chris, but I tell you this—­when I came to London I wanted to marry—­I hadn’t any money, and I had to want.  When I had the money—­but that’s neither here nor there!” He frowned, fingering his pipe.

“I didn’t ask her, Chris; I didn’t think it the square thing; it seems that’s out of fashion!”

Christian’s cheeks were burning.

“I think a lot while I lie here,” Mr. Treffry went on; “nothing much else to do.  What I ask myself is this:  What do you know about what’s best for you?  What do you know of life?  Take it or leave it, life’s not all you think; it’s give and get all the way, a fair start is everything.”

Christian thought:  ‘Will he never see?’

Mr. Treffry went on: 

“I get better every day, but I can’t last for ever.  It’s not pleasant to lie here and know that when I’m gone there’ll be no one to keep a hand on the check string!”

“Don’t talk like that, dear!” Christian murmured.

“It’s no use blinking facts, Chris. I’ve lived a long time in the world; I’ve seen things pretty well as they are; and now there’s not much left for me to think about but you.”

“But, Uncle, if you loved him, as I do, you couldn’t tell me to be afraid!  It’s cowardly and mean to be afraid.  You must have forgotten!”