it, if you can."

Paul held his hand for a while. Then his left hand dived into his
waistcoat pocket and, taking the place of his right, thrust three
sovereigns into Wilmer's palm. "For the kiddies," said he.

Wilmer looked at the coins in his palm, and then at Paul, and the
tears spurted. "I can't, my boy. You must be as broke as any of
us--you--half salary--no, my boy, I can't. I'm old enough to be
your father. It's damned good of you--but it's my one pride
left--the pride of both of us--the missus and me--that we've never
borrowed money--"

"But it isn't borrowed, you silly ass," cried Paul cheerfully. "It's
just your share of the spoils, such as they are. I wish to God it
was more." With both hands he clasped the thin, ineffectual fingers
over the coins and pushed the man' with his young strength out of
the door. "It's for the kiddies. Give them my love," he cried, and
slammed the door and locked it from the inside.

"Poor old chap!" said he.

Then he went through his pockets and laid the contents on the narrow
mantel-piece. These were a gold watch and chain, a cornelian heart
fixed to the free end of the chain, a silver cigarette case, a
couple of keys, one sovereign, four shillings, three pennies and two
half-pennies. A trunk already fastened and filled with books and
clothes, and the portmanteau on the bed, contained the rest of his
possessions. In current coin his whole fortune amounted to one
pound, four shillings and fourpence. Luckily he had paid his