I
lost--more than I can easily raise before settlement."
"I am sorry," Wingrave said politely. "It is very unwise to meddle in
things you know so little about."
For a moment the worm turned. Barrington rose to his feet, and with a
deep flush upon his cheeks moved towards the door. But his spark of
genuine feeling died out almost as soon as it had been kindled.
Outside that door was ruin; within, as he very well knew, lay his only
chance of salvation. He set down his hat, and turned round.
"Wingrave," he said, "will you lend me some money?"
Wingrave looked at him with upraised eyebrows.
"I," he remarked, "lend you money? Why should I?"
"Heaven knows," Barrington answered. "It is you who have chosen to
seek us out. You have forced upon us something which has at least the
semblance of friendship. There is no one else whom I could ask. It
isn't only this damned Stock Exchange transaction. Everything has gone
wrong with me for years. If I could have kept going till next July, I
should have been all right. I have made a little success in the House,
and I am promised a place in the next government. I know it seems
queer that I should be asking you, but it is that--or ruin. Now you
know how things are with me."
"You are making," Wingrave said quietly, "a mistake. I have not
pretended or given the slightest evidence of any friendship for
yourself."
Barrington looked at him with slowly mounting color.
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