loom was moving slowly, creakingly, but it was moving, and Finch, in his new aspect, was drawn into the changed pattern.
He was undressing that first night when he heard soft steps ascending the stairs. He was startled, for he seldom had a visitor. Wakefield appeared in the doorway.
He advanced with an ingratiating smile. "I simply couldn't sleep, Finch. Renny's out for the evening and he didn't tell me where, so I can't be sure what time he'll come in." He added rather patronizingly: "I thought you might feel nervous up here all alone after your breakdown. I thought I'd better come and bear you company."
Finch returned, in the same tone: "Well, I'm afraid you will repent you of your folly. I'm a beastly bedfellow, and I'm going to have the light on and read for a bit."
"That will just suit me!" cried Wake gaily, scrambling into the bed and clutching the sheet defensively. "I really want to talk with you about your plans, and give you a little advice about looking after all your money. You see," he proceeded, hugging his knees, "I know more than you'd guess about money. What I mean is, that I know a lot about making a little bit of money go a long way. I could make a hundred thousand dollars seem almost like a million. If you were to make me a little allowance—I wouldn't ask for more than twenty-five cents a week, just enough to keep Mrs. Brawn from nagging at me all the time—I'd give you advice that would be worth a lot to you. I can tell by the looks of you that you haven't got a good head for business. Piers says you won't have your money any time until you'll lose it. I say, Finch, how would you like to divide it equally with me? Then we'd have loads of fun seeing who could make the most out of his share. Like the Parable of the Talents."
"Your particular talent," said Finch, sitting on the edge of the bed, "is nerve. You've got more than anyone I know. I don't know how you've reached the age you have without someone giving you a bang that would
