"Can't you borrow, Jim?" she asked, turning gloomily from the window.
"Perhaps a fiver," was the prompt response; "every one's as mean as mean. I've tried 'em all. And you?"
Leah shook her head.
"Twenty pounds, for all my asking."
"There's your godmother, old Lady Canvey," suggested Jim. "She's as rich as Dives."
"And, like Dives, won't give a penny to this Lazarus. She smiles, and talks epigrams, and preaches, but as to helping----" Leah shrugged her shoulders again.
The action drew her husband's attention to a very magnificent figure which was loudly admired. Jim had admired it himself before he had got used to seeing it in the breakfast-room. Now it struck him that this attraction might be turned into money.
"You're a ripping woman in the way of looks," he said, throwing down the newspaper; "if you went on the stage--eh?"
"As the fairy queen?" inquired his wife, scornfully: "that's about all I'm suited for. I know the things I can't do, Jim, and acting is one. Besides, think of what the Duke would say."
Jim yawned, and lighted a cigarette.