and left his money so that she has the use of it during her life, and when she dies it comes to me. I think he meant well, poor old chap; as far as I can make out he fancied that our being dependent on her money would somehow bring us together. But the devilish old beast collared the seven thousand a year, and allows me twenty pounds a year out of it—twenty pounds a year! And I have my wife and little boy to keep." He choked a little, and gulped down some more port.
"It's very hard luck. You must be hard up!" I said compassionately.
"Hard up?" he said in a kind of rasp. "We are hard up! You know how I was brought up—to have the spending of seven thousand a year. I can do nothing—nothing! I can't write even a good enough letter to be a clerk, and I've no arithmetic. I got two jobs, both at twenty-five shillings a week, and lost both because I couldn't do the work. I could—I could strangle myself for being such a fool! It isn't so much on my own account I feel it—it's—it's the boy!"
He caught up his glass, gulped at the wine and choked and spluttered over it. I saw but for it he would have sobbed.
"I'm very sorry to hear this," I said. "Let me help you a bit to go on with, and I'll see if I can find you something in the way of a job."
I pulled out my sovereign case, turned four
