ything was damaged, more or less, and there was
absolutely nothing that seemed to have an interest taken in it. His
goods were accidents, presents, or the haphazard acquisitions of a
pressing need. Nothing, of course, was frowsy, but everything was
somewhat dusty, as if belonging to a man who never rebuked a servant.
Above all, there was nothing that indicated hobbies.

Three days later he had her answer to his letter:

. . . I don't think I understand what you mean by "the healthier people
are, the more repulsive they seem to be"; one must be healthy to be
perfect, must n't one? I don't like unhealthy people. I had to play on
that wretched piano after reading your letter; it made me feel unhappy.
I've been having a splendid lot of tennis lately, got the back-handed
lifting stroke at last--hurrah! . . .

By the same post, too, came the following note in an autocratic writing:

DEAR BIRD [for this was Shelton's college nickname],

My wife has gone down to her people, so I'm 'en garcon' for a few days.
If you've nothing better to do, come and dine to-night at seven, and go
to the theatre. It's ages since I saw you.

Yours as ever,

B. M. HALIDOME.

Shelton had nothing better to do, for pleasant were his friend
Halidome's well-appointed dinners. At seven, therefore, he went to
Chester Square. His friend was in his study, reading Matthew Arnold
by the light of an electric lamp. The walls of the room were hung with
costly etchings, arranged with solid and unfailing taste; from the
carving of the mantel-piece to the binding of the books, from the
miraculously-coloured meerschaums to the chased fire-irons, everything
displayed an unpretentious luxury, an order and a finish significant of
life completely under rule of thumb. Everything had been collected.
The collector rose as Shelton entered, a fine figure of a man, clean
shaven,--with dark hair, a Roman nose, good eyes, and the rather weighty
dignity of attitude which comes from the assurance that one is in the
right.

Taking Shelton by the lapel, he drew him into the radius of the lamp,
where he examined him, smiling a slow smile. "Glad to see you, old chap.
I rather like your beard," he said with genial brusqueness; and nothing,
perhaps, could better have summed up his faculty for forming independent
judgments which Shelton found so admirable. He made no apology for the
smallness of the dinner, which, consisting of eight courses and
three wines, served by a b