aimed that he was one of
William's acquaintances before it was possible to tell which of them he
was. It was Denham who, having parted from Sandys at the bottom of his
staircase, was now walking to the Tube at Charing Cross, deep in the
thoughts which his talk with Sandys had suggested. He had forgotten the
meeting at Mary Datchet's rooms, he had forgotten Rodney, and metaphors
and Elizabethan drama, and could have sworn that he had forgotten
Katharine Hilbery, too, although that was more disputable. His mind
was scaling the highest pinnacles of its alps, where there was only
starlight and the untrodden snow. He cast strange eyes upon Rodney, as
they encountered each other beneath a lamp-post.

"Ha!" Rodney exclaimed.

If he had been in full possession of his mind, Denham would probably
have passed on with a salutation. But the shock of the interruption made
him stand still, and before he knew what he was doing, he had turned and
was walking with Rodney in obedience to Rodney's invitation to come to
his rooms and have something to drink. Denham had no wish to drink with
Rodney, but he followed him passively enough. Rodney was gratified by
this obedience. He felt inclined to be communicative with this silent
man, who possessed so obviously all the good masculine qualities in
which Katharine now seemed lamentably deficient.

"You do well, Denham," he began impulsively, "to have nothing to do
with young women. I offer you my experience--if one trusts them one
invariably has cause to repent. Not that I have any reason at this
moment," he added hastily, "to complain of them. It's a subject that
crops up now and again for no particular reason. Miss Datchet, I dare
say, is one of the exceptions. Do you like Miss Datchet?"

These remarks indicated clearly enough that Rodney's nerves were in a
state of irritation, and Denham speedily woke to the situation of the
world as it had been one hour ago. He had last seen Rodney walking with
Katharine. He could not help regretting the eagerness with which his
mind returned to these interests, and fretted him with the old trivial
anxieties. He sank in his own esteem. Reason bade him break from Rodney,
who clearly tended to become confidential, before he had utterly lost
touch with the problems of high philosophy. He looked along the road,
and marked a lamp-post at a distance of some hundred yards, and decided
that he would part from Rodney when they reached this point.

"Yes, I like