“It hasn’t troubled me, Mr Rubb.”

“Hasn’t it though, really? That’s so good of you again! Now the truth is—but it’s pretty nearly just what I told you that day after dinner, when you agreed, you know, to what we had done.”

Here he paused, as though expecting an answer.

“Yes, I did agree.”

“Just at present, while certain other parties have a right to hold the title-deeds, and I can’t quite say how long that may be, we cannot execute a mortgage in your favour. The title-deeds represent the property. Perhaps you don’t know that.”

“Oh yes, I know as much as that.”

“Well then, as we haven’t the title-deeds, we can’t execute the mortgage. Perhaps you’ll say you ought to have the title-deeds.”

“No, Mr Rubb, I don’t want to say anything of the kind. If my money can be of any assistance to my brother—to my brother and you—you are welcome to the use of it, without any mortgage. I will show you a copy of the letter I sent to Mr Slow.”

“Thanks; a thousand thanks! and may I see the letter which Mr Slow wrote?”

“No, I think not. I don’t know whether it would be right to show it to you.”

“I shouldn’t think of doing anything about it; that is, resenting it, you know. Only then we should all be on the square together.”

“I think I’d better not. Mr Slow, when he wrote it, probably did not mean that I should show it to you.”

“You’re right; you’re always right. But you’ll let me see your answer.”

Then Miss Mackenzie went to her desk, and brought him a copy of the note she had written to the lawyer. He read it very carefully, twice over; and then she could see, when he refolded the paper, that his eyes were glittering with satisfaction.

“Miss Mackenzie, Miss Mackenzie,” he said, “I think that you are an angel!”

And he did think so. In so much at that moment he was at any rate sincere. She saw that he was pleased, and she was pleased herself.

“There need be no further trouble about it,” she said; and as she spoke she rose from her seat.

And he rose, too, and came close to her. He came close to her, hesitated for a moment, and then, putting one hand behind her waist, though barely touching her, he took her hand with his other hand. She thought that he was going to kiss her lips, and for a moment or two he thought so too; but either his courage failed him or else his discretion prevailed. Whether it was the one or the other, must depend on the way in which she would have taken it. As it was, he merely raised her hand and kissed that. When she could look into his face his eyes were full of tears.

“The truth is,” said he, “that you have saved us from ruin;—that’s the real truth. Damn all lying!”