He could find no more plausible excuse than that for concealing his face in shadow from the scrutiny of the two men on either side of him.  The continuous moral irritation of his unhappy courtship—­a courtship which had never advanced beyond the frigid familiarity of kissing Natalie’s hand in the presence of others—­had physically deteriorated him.  Even his hardy nerves began to feel the long strain of suspicion that had been laid unremittingly on them for weeks past.  His power of self-control—­he knew it himself—­was not to be relied on.  He could hide his face:  he could no longer command it.

“Did you hear what I said, Richard?”

“I heard.  Go on.”

Sir Joseph proceeded, gathering confidence as he advanced.

“Half my fortune!” he repeated.  “It’s parting with half my life; it’s saying good-by forever to my dearest friend!  My money has been such a comfort to me, Richard; such a pleasant occupation for my mind.  I know no reading so interesting and so instructive as the reading of one’s Banker’s Book.  To watch the outgoings on one side,” said Sir Joseph, with a gentle and pathetic solemnity, “and the incomings on the other—­the sad lessening of the balance at one time, and the cheering and delightful growth of it at another—­what absorbing reading!  The best novel that ever was written isn’t to be mentioned in a breath with it.  I can not, Richard, I really can not, see my nice round balance shrink up to half the figure that I have been used to for a lifetime.  It may be weak of me,” proceeded Sir Joseph, evidently feeling that it was not weak of him at all, “but we all have our tender place, and my Banker’s Book is mine.  Besides, it isn’t as if you wanted it.  If you wanted it, of course—­but you don’t want it.  You are a rich man; you are marrying my dear Natalie for love, not for money.  You and she and my grandchildren will have it all at my death.  It can make no difference to you to wait a few years till the old man’s chair at the fireside is empty.  Will you say the fourth part, Richard, instead of the half?  Twenty thousand,” pleaded Sir Joseph, piteously.  “I can bear twenty thousand off.  For God’s sake don’t ask me for more!”

The lips of the lawyer twisted themselves sourly into an ironical smile.  He was quite as fond of his money as Sir Joseph.  He ought to have felt for his client; but rich men have no sympathy with one another.  Mr. Dicas openly despised Sir Joseph.

There was a pause.  The robin-redbreasts in the shrubbery outside must have had prodigious balances at their bankers; they hopped up on the window-sill so fearlessly; they looked in with so little respect at the two rich men.

“Don’t keep me in suspense, Richard,” proceeded Sir Joseph.  “Speak out.  Is it yes or no?”

Turlington struck his hand excitedly on the table, and burst out on a sudden with the answer which had been so strangely delayed.