altered the outlook tremendously. It was one of the reasons that
made Benham glad to have Prothero there, one wanted a man of one's
own age, who understood things a little, to try over one's new
ideas. Prothero listened with an unamiable expression.

"What would you do, Prothero, if you found yourself saddled with
some thousands a year?"

"Godfathers don't grow in Brixton," said Prothero concisely.

"Well, what am I to do, Prothero?"

"Does all THIS belong to you?"

"No, this is my mother's."

"Godfather too?"

"I've not thought. . . . I suppose so. Or her own."

Prothero meditated.

"THIS life," he said at last, "this large expensiveness-- . . ."

He left his criticism unfinished.

"I agree. It suits my mother somehow. I can't understand her
living in any other way. But--for me. . . ."

"What can one do with several thousands a year?"