"In a way, yes. That is, I've been asking him for it and he's been lending
it to me. I don't think I've ever used the word borrow in a single
instance. I hate the word. I simply say: 'Percy, let me take twenty-five
for a week or two, will you?' and Percy says, 'All right, old boy,' and
that's all there is to it. Percy's been all right up to a few weeks ago.
In fact, I don't believe he would have mentioned the matter at all if Anne
hadn't turned him down on New Year's Eve. Why the deuce did you refuse
him, Anne? He'd always been decent till you did that. Now he's perfectly
impossible."

"You know perfectly well why I refused him," said Anne, lifting her
eyebrows slightly.

"Right-o! It was because you were engaged to Brady Thorpe. I quite forgot.
I apologise. You were quite right in refusing him. Be that as it may,
however, Percy is as sore as a crab. I can't go around owing money to a
chap who has been refused by my sister, can I? One of the Wintermills,
too. By Jove, it's awful!" He looked extremely distressed.

"You are not to go to Mr. Thorpe," said his mother from the chair into
which she had sunk in order to preserve a look of steadiness. A fine
moisture had come out upon her upper lip. "You must find an honourable way
in which to discharge your debts."

"Isn't my note as good as anybody's?" he demanded.

"No. It isn't worth a dollar."

"Ah, but it _will_ be if Mr. Thorpe buys it," said he in triumph. "He
could discount it for full value, if he wanted to. That's precisely what