'd ever run across you, and, if I did, I was at
once to wire to him and let him know."

"Are you going to?"

"No fear," replied Perigal emphatically.

"Aren't men very selfish?" she asked.

"They are where those women they admire are concerned."

At the conclusion of the meal, they sat in the inn garden. They spoke
of old times, old associations. Mavis gave Perigal an abridged account
of her doings since she had last seen him, omitting to mention her
experience with Mr Orgles, Mrs Hamilton, and Miss Ewer.

"I suppose you've run across a lot of chaps in London?" he presently
remarked.

"No, I haven't run against any 'chaps', as you call them."

"Rot!"

"It's a fact."

"Do you mean to say you've never yet had a love affair?"

"That's a business that requires two, isn't it?"

"Usually."

"Well, I've always made a point of standing out."

"Eh!"

"I suppose it's vanity--call it that if you like--but I think too much
of myself to be a party to a mere love affair, as you would call it."

Perigal glanced at her as if to see if she were speaking seriously.
Then he was lost in thought for some minutes, during which he often
looked in her direction.

"What are you thinking of?" she asked.

"That, to a decent chap, little Mavis would be something of a find, as
women go."

"You don't think much of women, then?"

"What's it my pater's always saying?"

"I can tell you: Always learn the value of money and the worthlessness
of most women."

"Eh!"

"Don't look so astonished. It's the advice he gave to Archie Windebank."

"I see: and he told you. But the pater's right over that."

"How do you know?"

"That's telling."

Later in the afternoon, at tea, Mavis learned from Perigal much of his
life since they had last met. It appeared that he had been to Oxford,
to be sent down during his first term; that he had tried (and failed)
for Sandhurst; also a variety of occupations, all apparently without
success, until his father, angered at some scrape he had got into, had
packed him off to Riga, where he had secured some sort of a billet for
his son. Finally, in defiance of parental orders, he had left that
"beastly hole" and was living at home until his father should turn him
out.

"Isn't it all rather a pity?" Mavis asked.

"All what?"

"Your wasted life? And you've had so many good chances."

"I've had some fun out of it all. And, after all, what's the use of
trying?"

"Just think of the thousands w