"Then why don't you be a man, and break off the whole business at once?"
"Now, I like that," said Paul; "I really like that suggestion from a man who has been talking as you have been talking to me. Do you think you could?"
"No, I am sure I could not," said George. "It is the old story: giving advice is the easiest thing in the world; following it the most difficult. I----"
"Hullo! here's Billy."
It was indeed Mr. Dunlop, who entered the room at the moment, and stood in the doorway regarding the two friends, who were leaning over the desk together, with a comical aspect.
"A very pretty picture indeed," said Mr. Dunlop. "'The Misers,' by Rembrandt, I think, or some other elderly parties of an obscure age. Whence this thusness? Do I intrude? If so, I am perfectly ready to withdraw. No one can ever say that W.D. forced himself into his office at times when his presence was not required there."
"Come in, and don't be an idiot, Billy," said Paul. "George and I were just talking over some private matters; but we have finished now."
"Private matters!" said Mr. Dunlop. "And by the look of you they must have been what the dramatist calls of 'serious import.' Confide in me. Come, rest on this bosom, my own stricken Deer-inzy. William is ready to give you advice, assistance, anything, indeed--except money. Of that latter article he is generally scarce; and Mr. Michael O'Dwyer has recently borrowed of him the attenuated remains of his quarterly stipend."
"No, Billy; thanks all the same; I don't think you can be of much use to either of us just now," said George, with a smile. "If you really are serious in what you said just now about money, you can have what you want from me."
"Thanks, generous stranger," said Billy. "You are like the rich uncle, who, from his purse containing notes to exactly double the amount--a favourite character in dramatic fiction, but one whom I have never yet had the pleasure of meeting in private life. No, I shall get on very well until the Chancellor of the Exchequer shells out."