Had he been a wise man he would have let it go at that. He was not,
however, a wise man. The shallow, brimming reservoir of his nature was
of the kind that spills over at a splash.

"The most extraordinary thing has happened," he went on. "A man came to
my office to-day and offered to lend me--no, not to lend--practically to
_give_ me--enough money to pull me through."

She held a lump of sugar poised above his cup with the sugar-tongs. Her
astonishment was so great that she kept it there. The walls of the city
which just now had seemed to be rising magically faded away again,
leaving the same unbounded vacancy into which she had been looking out
all day.

"What do you mean by--practically to give you?"

"The man said lend. But my name is good for even more than you supposed,
since he knows, and I know, that I can offer him no security."

"How can he tell, then, that you'll ever pay it back?"

"He can't tell. That's just it."

"And can you tell?" She let the lump of sugar fall with a circle of tiny
eddies into the cup of tea.

"I can tell--up to a point." His tone indicated some abatement of
enthusiasm.

"Up to what point?"