'A little more than a photograph.'

'Yes. They say if I won't be reasonable there's plenty as'll take
their pictures, and they can't throw away money.'

'H'm! Well, at this rate, Fenwick, you're not exactly galloping into a
fortune. And your father?'

Fenwick made a bitter gesture, as much as to say, 'What's the good of
discussing _that_?'

'H'm!--Well, now, Fenwick, what are your plans? Can you live on what
you make?'

'No,' said the other, abruptly. 'I'm getting into debt.'

'That's bad. But what's your own idea? You must have some notion of a
way out.'

'If I could get to London,' said the other, in a low, dragging voice,
'I'd soon find a way out.'

'And what prevents you?'

'Well, it's simple enough. You don't really, sir, need to ask. I've no
money--and I've a wife and child.'

Fenwick's tone was marked by an evident ill-humour. He had thrown
back his handsome head, and his eyes sparkled. It was plain that Mr.
Morrison's catechising manner had jarred upon a pride that was all on