with you?"

She patted Mr. Kemp's hand; Mr. Kemp patted back, and with his disengaged
hand helped himself to a glass of beer--the fourth--and beamed in a
friendly fashion upon the company.

"George!" he said, suddenly.

"Yes," said Mr. Wright, in a harsh voice.

"Did you think to bring my pocket-book along with you?"

"No," said Mr. Wright, sharply; "I didn't."

"Tt-tt," said the old man, with a gesture of annoyance. "Well, lend me a
couple of pounds, then, or else run back and fetch my pocket-book," he
added, with a sly grin.

Mr. Wright's face worked with impotent fury. "What--what--do you--want
it for?" he gasped.

Mrs. Bradshaw's "Well! Well!" seemed to sum up the general feeling; Mr.
Kemp, shaking his head, eyed him with gentle reproach.

"Me and Mrs. Bradshaw are going to gave another evening out," he said,
quietly. "I've only got a few more days, and I must make hay while the
sun shines."

To Mr. Wright the room seemed to revolve slowly on its axis, but,
regaining his self-possession by a supreme effort, he took out his purse