"Miss Woodward," he repeated, "I said I think I'll never make a
successful man. Do you know what that means?"

She looked at him mutely, polite inquiry in her eyes.

"It means," he said gravely, "that I'm going broke. Unless something
turns up in the next three weeks, or a month at the latest, I'll
have to get a job."

"And that means--" she asked.

"All this will go to pot," he explained with a sweeping gesture. "I
thought I'd better tell you as much in advance as I could."

"You mean you're going to give up your office--and me?" she asked,
a little alarmed.

"Giving up you will be the harder of the two," he said with a smile,
"but that's what it means. You'll have no difficulty finding a new
place, with three weeks in which to look for one, but I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too, Mr. Chamberlain," she said, her brow puckered.

She was not really frightened, because she knew she could get
another position, but she became aware of rather more regret than
she had expected.

There was silence for a moment.

"Jove!" said Arthur, suddenly. "It's getting dark, isn't it?"