"I don't know," replied the unhappy painter.
"If the Roorkes Drift Mines would only go up to two hundred," said the girl, plucking another daisy, "I'd marry you; father has a whole trunkful of them. He got them at sixpence each, and if they went to two hundred they'd be worth half a million of money."
"Is there any chance, do you think?" asked Leavesley brightening. He knew something of stock exchange jargon. The Captain was great on stock exchange matters, when he was not occupied in pawning his clothes and sending wild messages to his friends for assistance.
"I think so," said Fanny. "Mr Bevan said they were going into Liqui——something."
"Liquidation."
"Yes—that's it."
Leavesley sighed. An old grey horse cropping the grass near by came and looked gloomily at the humans, snorted, and resumed his meal.
"What's the time?" asked Miss Lambert, putting on her gloves. Leavesley looked at his watch.
"Half-past six."
"Gracious! let's go; it will take us hours to get home." She rose to her feet and shook her dress.