not always in the best taste."

Wilfred Carr rose and taking a cue from the rack, bent over the board and
practiced one or two favourite shots. "The only other subject I can talk
about just at present is my own financial affairs," he said slowly, as he
walked round the table.

"Talk about something else," said Benson again, bluntly.

"And the two things are connected," said Carr, and dropping his cue he
half sat on the table and eyed his cousin.

There was a long silence. Benson pitched the end of his cigar out of the
window, and leaning back closed his eyes.

"Do you follow me?" inquired Carr at length.

Benson opened his eyes and nodded at the window.

"Do you want to follow my cigar?" he demanded.

"I should prefer to depart by the usual way for your sake," returned the
other, unabashed. "If I left by the window all sorts of questions would
be asked, and you know what a talkative chap I am."

"So long as you don't talk about my affairs," returned the other,
restraining himself by an obvious effort, "you can talk yourself hoarse."

"I'm in a mess," said Carr, slowly, "a devil of a mess. If I don't raise
fifteen hundred by this day fortnight, I may be getting my board and