ularly gross and
unemotional nature.'

'I adore good food as I adore all the other pleasant things of life, and
because I have that gift I am able to look upon the future with
equanimity.'

'Why?' asked Alec.

'Because a love for good food is the only thing that remains with man
when he grows old. Love? What is love when you are five and fifty and
can no longer hide the disgraceful baldness of your pate. Ambition? What
is ambition when you have discovered that honours are to the pushing and
glory to the vulgar. Finally we must all reach an age when every passion
seems vain, every desire not worth the trouble of achieving it; but then
there still remain to the man with a good appetite three pleasures each
day, his breakfast, his luncheon, and his dinner.'

Alec's eyes rested on him quietly. He had never got out of the habit of
looking upon Dick as a scatter-brained boy who talked nonsense for the
fun of it; and his expression wore the amused disdain which one might
have seen on a Saint Bernard when a toy-terrier was going through its
tricks.

'Please say something,' cried Dick, half-irritably.

'I suppose you say those things in order that I may contradict you. Why
should I? They're perfectly untrue, and I don't agree with a single word
you say. But if it amuses you to talk nonsense, I don't see why you
shouldn't.'

'My dear Alec, I wish you wouldn't use the mailed fist in your
conversation. It's so very difficult to play a game with a spillikin on
one side and a sledge-hammer on the other.'

Lucy, sitting back in her chair, quietly, was observing the new arrival.
Dick had asked her and Mrs. Crowley to meet him at luncheon immediately
after his arrival from Mombassa. This was two months ago now, and since
then she had seen much of him. But she felt that she knew him little
more than on that first day, and still she could not make up her mind
whether she liked him or not. She was glad that they were staying
together at Court Leys; it would give her an opportunity of really
becoming acquainted with him, and there was no doubt that he was worth
the trouble. The fire lit up his face, casting grim shadows upon it, so
that it looked more than ever masterful and determined. He was
unconscious that her eyes rested upon him. He was always unconscious of
the attention he aroused.

Lucy hoped that she would induce him to talk of the work he had done,
and the work upon which he was engaged. With her mind fixed always on