It was a fearful situation as between these two young men. In silence, in gloom, they gazed each upon the ground.
Bill took a glance at George's face; turned hurriedly from the despair there stamped; set his eyes upon my pretty Mary. He gave a sigh.
“But, George, old man, you've come out of it the better,” he said. “You've lost the money you wanted, but you've got your—you've got Miss Humfray. I've lost my—I've lost Margaret.”
In great melancholy George rose; crossed to his Mary; sat upon the arm of her chair; caressed her pretty shoulders.
“You don't know what you're talking about, Bill. Bill, we're in a most fearful hole. We haven't got a sou, and I've got no work. You're doing well. You're making money. You're bound to get Margaret in time. As for us—”
Bill was deeply stirred. “I say, I am sorry,” he told them. He sat up very straight. “Look here, don't get down on your luck. Come out and have lunch with me and tell me just how you're fixed. If a small loan will do you any good I'm certain my guv'nor will stand it. He likes you awfully, George. Come on. I shan't see you again otherwise for some time. I'm off on another Special Commissioner job for the Daily, you know.”
George gave a slight shudder. “Oh? Thank goodness, I'm not the object of it this time. What is it?”
“What is it? Why, you've seen the Daily this morning, haven't you?”
“I'll never open the infernal thing again.”
Bill did not heed the aspersion. “It's really rather funny, you know,” he went on. “Look here.” He tugged at his pocket; produced a Daily.