“It’s the most ripping way of making money that I’ve ever struck,” he cried.  “I didn’t have to put my hand in my pocket for sixpence.”

“You lost something by not being here last Tuesday, young man,” said Macalister to Philip.

“My God, why didn’t you write to me?” said Philip.  “If you only knew how useful a hundred pounds would be to me.”

“Oh, there wasn’t time for that.  One has to be on the spot.  I heard of a good thing last Tuesday, and I asked these fellows if they’d like to have a flutter, I bought them a thousand shares on Wednesday morning, and there was a rise in the afternoon so I sold them at once.  I made fifty pounds for each of them and a couple of hundred for myself.”

Philip was sick with envy.  He had recently sold the last mortgage in which his small fortune had been invested and now had only six hundred pounds left.  He was panic-stricken sometimes when he thought of the future.  He had still to keep himself for two years before he could be qualified, and then he meant to try for hospital appointments, so that he could not expect to earn anything for three years at least.  With the most rigid economy he would not have more than a hundred pounds left then.  It was very little to have as a stand-by in case he was ill and could not earn money or found himself at any time without work.  A lucky gamble would make all the difference to him.

“Oh, well, it doesn’t matter,” said Macalister.  “Something is sure to turn up soon.  There’ll be a boom in South Africans again one of these days, and then I’ll see what I can do for you.”

Macalister was in the Kaffir market and often told them stories of the sudden fortunes that had been made in the great boom of a year or two back.

“Well, don’t forget next time.”

They sat on talking till nearly midnight, and Philip, who lived furthest off, was the first to go.  If he did not catch the last tram he had to walk, and that made him very late.  As it was he did not reach home till nearly half past twelve.  When he got upstairs he was surprised to find Mildred still sitting in his arm-chair.

“Why on earth aren’t you in bed?” he cried.

“I wasn’t sleepy.”

“You ought to go to bed all the same.  It would rest you.”

She did not move.  He noticed that since supper she had changed into her black silk dress.

“I thought I’d rather wait up for you in case you wanted anything.”

She looked at him, and the shadow of a smile played upon her thin pale lips.  Philip was not sure whether he understood or not.  He was slightly embarrassed, but assumed a cheerful, matter-of-fact air.

“It’s very nice of you, but it’s very naughty also.  Run off to bed as fast as you can, or you won’t be able to get up tomorrow morning.”

“I don’t feel like going to bed.”

“Nonsense,” he said coldly.

She got up, a little sulkily, and went into her room.  He smiled when he heard her lock the door loudly.