'I dare say I exaggerate,' he said.
'I say, Gordon, look here. Let me lend you ten quid. Take the girl out to dinner a few times. Or away for the week–end, or something. It might make all the difference. I hate to think—'
Gordon frowned bitterly, almost fiercely. He had stepped a pace back, as though from a threat or an insult. The terrible thing was that the temptation to say 'Yes' had almost overwhelmed him. There was so much that ten quid would do! He had a fleeting vision of Rosemary and himself at a restaurant table—a bowl of grapes and peaches, a bowing hovering waiter, a wine bottle dark and dusty in its wicker cradle.
'No fear!' he said.
'I do wish you would. I tell you I'd LIKE to lend it you.'
'Thanks. But I prefer to keep my friends.'
'Isn't that rather—well, ra
