They each had a pint, served in the native pewter.  When Cheeseman had taken a deep draught he leaned forward across the table.

’Hood, I don’t forget it; never you believe that I forget it, however appearances may be against me?’

’Forget what?—­give me the mustard, as soon as you can spare it; ha, ha!’

‘That ten-pound note!’

Hood dropped his knife and fork.

‘What on earth’s up?  You look just like you did when I clapped you o’ the shoulder.  Your nerves are out of order, old friend.’

’Why, so they are.  I know now what you mean; I couldn’t for the life of me think what you were talking about.’

‘Don’t think I forget it,’ pursued the other, after a mouthful.

’It’s twelve years last Easter since you lent me that ten-pound note, and it’s been on my conscience ever since.  But I shall repay it; never you fear but I’ll repay it.  Did I mention a fire-escape that any man can wear round his waist?  Hush! wait a month or two.  Let me make a note of your address whilst I think of it.  This pudding’s hot, but it’s a fault on the right side, and time ’ll mend it.  You wouldn’t mind, I daresay, being my agent for Dunfield—­for the fire-escape, you know?  I’ll communicate with you, don’t fear.’

A hot meal in the middle of the day was a luxury long unknown to Hood.  Now and again the thought of what he was doing flashed across him, but mere bodily solace made his conscience dull.  As the meal proceeded he even began to justify himself.  Was he never to know an hour’s enjoyment?  Was his life to be unbroken hardship?  What if he had borrowed a few shillings without leave; somehow difficulties would be got over; why, at the very worst, Emily would gladly lend him a pound.  He began to talk of Emily, to praise her, to wax warm in the recounting of her goodness, her affection.  What man living had so clever and so loving a daughter!

‘It’s what I said, Hood,’ put in Cheeseman, with a shake of the head.  ’You’ve left me behind.  You’ve got into smooth water.  The old partnership of ill-luck is broken up.  Well, well!  I ought to have married.  It’s been my one mistake in life.’

‘Why, it’s none too late yet,’ cried Hood, merrily.

‘None too late!  Powers defend us!  What have I got to marry on?’

‘But the fire-escape?’

’Yes, yes, to be sure; the fire-escape!  Well, we’ll see; wait till things are set going.  Perhaps you’re right; perhaps it isn’t too late.  And, Hood—­’

‘Well?’

’You couldn’t manage one single half-crown piece, could you?  To be sure there’s always an archway to be found, when night comes on, but I can’t pretend to like it.  I always try to manage a bed at least once a week—­no, no, not if there’s the least difficulty.  Times are hard, I know.  I’d rather say not another word about it.’

’Nonsense; take the half-crown and have done with it, Why, you’ve cheered me up many a half-crownsworth; I feel better than I did.  Don’t I look it?  I feel as if I’d some warmth in my body.  What say you, Cheeseman? One half-pint more?’