prosperity.

"The prodigal son, by George! Creeping back into the fold after
all this weary time! It seems years since I saw you, Freddie.
The old gov'nor put his foot down--didn't he?--and stopped the
funds. Damned shame! I take it that things have loosened up a bit
since the engagement was announced--eh?"

Freddie sat down and chewed the knob of his cane unhappily.

"Well, as a matter of fact, Dickie, old top," he said, "not so
that you could notice it, don't you know! Things are still pretty
much the same. I managed to get away from Blandings for a night,
because the gov'nor had to come to London; but I've got to go
back with him on the three-o'clock train. And, as for money, I
can't get a quid out of him. As a matter of fact, I'm in the
deuce of a hole; and that's why I've come to you."

Even fat, jovial men have their moments of depression. R. Jones'
face clouded, and jerky remarks about hardness of times and
losses on the Stock Exchange began to proceed from him. As
Scotland Yard had discovered, he lent money on occasion; but he
did not lend it to youths in Freddie's unfortunate position.

"Oh, I don't want to make a touch, you know," Freddie hastened to
explain. "It isn't that. As a matter of fact, I managed to raise
five hundred of the best this morning. That ought to be enough."

"Depends on what you want it for," said R. Jones, magically genial
once more.