clock marked "No effects—refer to drawer," or some equivalent intimation.
But that day was still distant, and in the meantime he went on drawing with a light heart.
It was a Saturday evening, the day on which Peter generally presented his weekly cheque; but although it was nearly half-past ten, he had had no opportunity of doing so as yet. He was in the drawing-room, and Sophia was reading aloud to him this time, an article on "Bi-metalism" from one of the reviews; for she had been an ardent Bi-metalist from early girlhood, and she naturally wished to win Peter from his Laodicean apathy on so momentous a subject. He listened with surface resignation, although inwardly he was in a fever of impatience to get back upon the Boomerang, where Miss Davenport had been more interesting than usual on his last visit. But he could hardly rise and slip a cheque under the clock before Sophia's very eyes without inventing some decent pretext for such an action, and Bi-metalism had reduced him to a mental condition which was no longer fertile in expedients.
Suddenly Sophia stopped reading and remarked:
