"Thirty-five from sixty," murmured Lady Jim. "Leaves how much, Jim?"
"Twenty-five," replied Kaimes, after wrinkling his brow and communing with his none too quick brain. "Beastly long time to wait."
Leah nodded. "There's no chance of your getting it sooner?"
"Not the slightest. I can't get a cent on it, and I can't sell it, and I can't use it in any way. Jarvey Peel was a silly old ass. Died worth no end of coin, and didn't leave me a penny."
"But if you died, Jim?"
"Drop it," retorted Kaimes, who did not at all relish the suggestion.
"Well, but supposing you did?" insisted Leah.
"Then I 'spose the money would be paid to you," said Jim, kicking the hearth-rug with a gloomy face; "but don't you make any mistake, Leah. I'm goin' to live right on to sixty and handle the money. I can't do much at that age, but I'll try hard to get through the lot before I slip off."
"And what about me?"
"Oh, you must look after yourself," said Jim, heartlessly; "but if you can think of some scheme to get the cash now, I'll give you half--there now. There's nothing mean about me."