day was Sunday, July 20th. The weather was very hot, and the two
young men were delighted at the idea of getting away to the cool
breezes of the Northern Seas. Vivian also was a clerk in the public
service, but he was a clerk very far removed in his position from
that filled by George Roden. He was attached to the Foreign Office,
and was Junior Private Secretary to Lord Persiflage, who was
Secretary of State at that moment. Lord Persiflage and our Marquis
had married sisters. Vivian was distantly related to the two ladies,
and hence the young men had become friends. As Lord Hampstead and
Roden had been drawn together by similarity of opinion, so had Lord
Hampstead and Vivian by the reverse. Hampstead could always produce
Vivian in proof that he was not, in truth, opposed to his own order.
Vivian was one who proclaimed his great liking for things as he found
them. It was a thousand pities that any one should be hungry; but,
for himself, he liked truffles, ortolans, and all good things. If
there was any injustice in the world he was not responsible. And if
there was any injustice he had not been the gainer, seeing that he
was a younger brother. To him all Hampstead's theories were sheer
rhodomontade. There was the world, and men had got to live in it as
best they might. He intended to do so, and as he liked yachting and
liked grouse-shooting, he was very glad to have arranged with Lord
Persiflage and his brother Private Secretary, so as to be able to get
out of town for the next two months. He was member of half-a-dozen
clubs, could always go to his brother's country house if nothing more
inviting offered, dined out in London four or five days a week, and
considered himself a thoroughly useful member of society in that he
condescended to write letters for Lord Persiflage. He was pleasant in
his manners to all men, and had accommodated himself to Roden as well
as though Roden's office had also been in Downing Street instead of
the City.

"Yes, grouse," he said, after dinner. "If anything better can be
invented I'll go and do it. American bears are a myth. You may get
one in three years, and, as far as I can hear, very poor fun it
is when you get it. Lions are a grind. Elephants are as big as a
hay-stack. Pig-sticking may be very well, but you've got to go to
India, and if you're a poor Foreign Office clerk you haven't got
either the time or the money."

"You speak as though killing something were a necessity," said Rod