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"You have been in London seven months," Matthew proceeded deliberately, "during which time you have spent the whole of your savings. You have earned nothing. Consequently, you are at the moment penniless. Rosina has also spent her savings, although she, unlike you, has earned a trifle which has gone towards your support. We agreed to start life together, but we are in no sense of the word partners. I am leaving you to-morrow. How do you propose to live?"

The pent-up fury of months broke loose in Philip.

"What the hell business is that of yours?" he demanded.

"So far as you are concerned," was the cold reply, "it is neither my business nor my concern. There is Rosina, however, to be considered."

"Philip—Matthew—" she implored, turning to each in turn, "please don't let us quarrel. It isn't worth it. Matthew is quite right to go, if he feels that he must. We shall get along somehow."

"I shall be curious to know how," Matthew observed.

Philip slid from the sofa on to his feet, and stood by Rosina's side. He glowered at Matthew across the table.