"It doesn't sound sensible," said Joyce.
"It isn't," I said, "at all sensible, but it's inevitable."
"What's inevitable?"
"That about the silver," I said.
"But you didn't say anything about the silver, except that it's got to be."
"Well, it's got to be—hypothecated."
"What's that?"
"I mean," I said, "that I'm—er—temporarily embarrassed, and the silver has got to be made security for a loan—pawned, in fact—so that I can pay the balance of the rent and catch up with my outgoings. Is that clearly put?"
"Perfectly; but we can't spare the silver just now. The Armisteads are coming to tea on Friday."
"But," I protested, "you don't understand. We don't keep a valuable stud of silver tea-things for the Armisteads' amusement, but for our own, and as—er—collateral." I was sure this would be beyond Joyce.