"Quite so, quite so," he said; "we shall come to that, I dare say."

"We must, Rimall." And Miltoun turned the page.

The little man's face quivered.

"I don't think," he said, "that book's quite strong enough for you, my
lord, with your taste for reading. Now I've a most curious old volume
here--on Chinese temples. It's rare--but not too old. You can peruse it
thoroughly. It's what I call a book to browse on just suit your palate.
Funny principle they built those things on," he added, opening the volume
at an engraving, "in layers. We don't build like that in England."

Miltoun looked up sharply; the little man's face wore no signs of
understanding.

"Unfortunately we don't, Rimall," he said; "we ought to, and we shall.
I'll take this book."

Placing his finger on the print of the pagoda, he added: "A good symbol."

The little bookseller's eye strayed down the temple to the secret price
mark.

"Exactly, my lord," he said; "I thought it'd be your fancy. The price to
you will be twenty-seven and six."

Miltoun, pocketing the bargain, walked out. He made his way into the
Temple, left the book at his Chambers, and passed on down to the bank of
Mother Thames. The Sun was loving her passionately that afternoon; he
had kissed her into warmth and light and colour. And all the buildings
along her banks, as far as the towers at Westminster, seemed to be
smiling. It was a great sight for the eyes of a lover. And another
vision came haunting Miltoun, of a soft-eyed woman with a low voice,
bending amongst her flowers. Nothing would be complete without her; no
work bear fruit; no scheme could have full meaning.

Lord Valleys greeted his son at dinner with good fellowship and a faint
surprise.

"Day off, my dear fellow? Or have you come up to hear Brabrook pitch
into us? He's rather late this time--we've got rid of that balloon
business no trouble after all."

And he eyed Miltoun with that clear grey stare of his, so cool, level,
and curious. Now, what sort of bird is this? it seemed saying.
Certainly not the partridge I should have expected from its breeding!

Miltoun's answer: "I came up to tell you some thing, sir," riveted his
father's stare for a second longer than was quite urbane.

It would not be true to say that Lord Valleys was afraid of his son. Fear
was not one of his emotions, but he certainly regarded him with a
respectful curiosity that bordered on uneasiness. The oligarchic tempe