“Yes. What one might call re-entering the glacial period, eh?”
“Haw! haw! Rather. But ’pon my soul, you ought to thank your stars night and day that you’re out of this infernal house.”
“H’m! Why don’t you go abroad, or somewhere, during the ‘Long’! You’ve heaps of time.”
“Don’t I wish I may get it! He takes precious good care I don’t—that’s why,” rejoined Hubert, wrathful over the memory of his wrongs; and then he relapsed into silence. The fact was, he began to feel embarrassed, for he was trying to summon up courage to ask his brother a favour. He had been leading a life of terrible anxiety for the last few weeks. A bill was on the point of falling due, and he had not a notion how it was to be met. Result—another exposure. For what made it worse was the fact of his having denied further liability when his father had paid off his debts a couple of months back, and now it would come out that he had—well, stated what he knew to be contrary to fact. In his extremity, he thought of Roland, and now the moment struck him in a propitious light.
“Keeps you tight, I suppose?”
“Tight! I should just think he did,” replied Hubert, with alacrity. Surely the conversation was working round towards a favourable opening.
“Hard luck that. Try one of these weeds.”
“Thanks. And—er—I say, Roland, there’s something I rather thought—er—you might perhaps do for me. The fact is, you see, I’m in a devil of a fix just now—don’t know which way to turn. And if the veteran should find it out I’m clean done.”
Roland eyed him rather curiously.
“Well, what is it? Cash—or petticoat? Those being the two main sources of man’s difficulties.”