8o 'ANGEL PAVEMENT

time she did not really bother her own head about it,
as he knew very well. To her it xvas all rather unreal,
and he was convinced that the idea that he might lose
his job, be thrown into the street with only the gloomiest
prospect of getting anything half as good, never really
entered her head. And this indifference, this child-like
confidence in his ability to produce the usual six or
seven pounds every week, did nothing to restore his own
self-confidence, at least not at such moments as these,
but only made him feel that he had to think for two,
and in the end left him lonely with his fear,

"All I'm hoping now," he went on earnestly, "is that
this chap who called has got something up his sleeve.
It's so funny Goath going like that. Looks to me as if
this chap, Golspie, thought Goath wasn't any good—and
I've thought so once or twice myself lately—and worked
it so that Mr. Dersingham got rid of him. Perhaps he's
going to take his place. I must say, it's a funny business.
In all my experience—"

"Don't you worry, it'll be all right," cried Mrs.
Smeeth, "We're going to be lucky, we are. I don't care
if Mr. Dersingham goes mental, we're going to be lucky.
Soon, too! I don't think I told you, but Mrs, Dalby's
sister-the one with the fringe and the jet ear-rings, who
reads the cards-told me my fortune the other afternoon,
and she said luck was coming, money and good luck,
and all through a stranger, a middling-coloured man
in a strange bed. Is this man you're talking about
middling-coloured?"

"Don't ask me, I never noticed what colour he was.
He hadn't any colour. He'd got a big moustache, i£
that's any use to you. But what puzzles me is this, why
did Mr. Dersingham—"