hundred pounds, which many men would dissipate in a single night, and
forget the next morning that they had done so, seemed vast and almost
incredible to him.

'I know you've always been very careful,' said Mark politely.

'Give up this old Labour Church'--again old Beechinor laid a withering
emphasis on the phrase--'give up this Labour Church, and its all
thine--house and all.'

Mark shook his head.

'Think twice,' the sick man ordered angrily. 'I tell thee thou'rt
standing to lose every shilling.'

'I must manage without it, then.'

A silence fell.

Each brother was absolutely immovable in his decision, and the other
knew it. Edward might have said: 'I am a dying man: give up this thing
to oblige me.' And Mark could have pleaded: 'At such a moment I would do
anything to oblige you--except this, and this I really can't do. Forgive
me.' Such amenities would possibly have eased the cord which was about
to snap; but the idea of regarding Edward's condition as a factor in
the case did not suggest itself favourably to the grim Beechinor stock,
so stern, harsh, and rude. The sick man wiped from his sunken features
the sweat which continually gathered there. Then he turned upon his side
with a grunt.