“Don’t you really?  Well, he has made a few thousands sit up, I can tell you.  You’ve heard of the Crawley gold fields?  Heaven knows where they are, but that doesn’t matter—­somewhere in Australia of course.  No one knew anything about them till recently.  Well, they were boomed tremendously a little while ago.  Your husband was the prime mover.  He went in for them largely.  Everyone went for them.  They held for a bit, then your husband began to sell as fast as he could.  And then, of course, the shares went down to zero.  People waited a bit, then sold—­for what they could get.  No one knew who did the buying till yesterday.  My dear Nina, your husband has bought the lot.  He has got the whole concern into his hands for next to nothing.  The gold fields have turned up trumps.  They stand three times as high as they ever did before.  He was behind the scenes.  He merely sold to create a slump.  If he chose to sell again he could command almost any price he cared to ask.  Well, one man’s loss is another man’s gain.  But he’s as rich as Croesus.  They say there are a good many who would like to be at his throat.”

Nina listened with disgust undisguised on her face.

“How I loathe money!” she said abruptly.

“Oh, I say!” protested Archie.  “You’re not such an extremist as that.  Think of the host of good things that can’t be done without it.”

“What good things does he do?” she demanded contemptuously.  “He simply lives to heap up wealth.”

“You can’t say for certain that he doesn’t do a few decent things when no one’s looking,” suggested Archie, who liked to be fair, even to those for whom he felt no liking.  “People—­rich men like that—­do, you know.  Why, only last night I heard of a man—­he’s a West End physician—­who runs a sort of private hospital somewhere in the back slums, and actually goes and practises there when his consulting hours are over.  Pure philanthropy that, you know.  And no one but the slummers any the wiser.  They say he’s simply adored among them.  They go to him in all their troubles, physical or otherwise.  That’s only an instance.  I don’t say your husband does that sort of thing.  But he may.”

Nina uttered her bitter little laugh.

“You always were romantic, Archie,” she said.  “But I’m afraid I’m past the romantic age.  Anyhow I’m an unbeliever.”

Archie gave her a keen look.

“I say—­” he said, and stopped.

“Well?” Nina looked back at him questioningly.

“I beg your pardon,” he said, colouring boyishly.  “You won’t like what I was going to say.  I think I won’t say it.”

“You needn’t consider my feelings,” she returned, “I assure you I am not used to it.”

“Oh, well,” he said.  “I was going to say that you talk as if he were a beast to you.  Is he?”

Nina raised her dark eyebrows and did not instantly reply.  Archie looked away from her.  He felt uncomfortably that he had gone too far.