ld house
in Elgin Road to a new one out at Kingsbury-Neasden, and when the
removal was completed Alma went there to make a call, taking her
husband. Harvey had never been beyond Swiss Cottage on this extension
of the Metropolitan Railway; he looked with interest at the new
districts springing up towards Harrow, and talked of them with Mrs.
Leach. A day or two after, he travelled by himself to a greater
distance on the same line, making a survey of the country from Harrow
to Aylesbury. At his next meeting with Hugh Carnaby, which took place
about the middle of July, he threw out a suggestion that for anyone who
wished to live practically in London and yet away from its frenzy, the
uplands towards Buckinghamshire were convenient ground.

'I wish you were thinking of it yourself,' replied Hugh. 'Your wife is
about the only woman Sibyl cares to see much of, and the only woman I
know that she'll get any good from.'

The strong man did not look very cheerfully on the world just now, and
it was evident that he felt some sort of trouble with regard to his
wife. For her sake solely he had returned to England, where he was less
than ever at his ease. He wished Sibyl to live in her own way, grudged
her nothing, admired and cherished her with undiminished fervour; but
in Oxford and Cambridge Mansions it cost him a great effort to pretend
to be at home. The years of wandering had put him hopelessly out of
touch with what Sibyl called society. Little as he understood about
manufactures, or cared for the details of commerce, he preferred to
stay down at Coventry with his partner Mackintosh, living roughly,
smoking his pipe and drinking his whisky in the company of men who had
at least a savour of sturdy manhood. His days of sport were gone by; he
was risking the solid remnant of his capital; and if it vanished--But
of that possibility he would not speak, even with Harvey Rolfe. As he
meditated, his teeth were set, his eyes darkened. And it appeared to
Harvey that the good fellow drank a little more whisky than was
needful, even in these warm days.

'I want to see the little chap, my namesake,' he said. 'Why don't you
have him up here? Doesn't your wife feel she wants him?'

'Alma will think more of him in a year or two,' Harvey replied.

'Yes. I've noticed that women--one sort of women--don't care much about
babies nowadays. I dare say they're right. The fewer children people
have, the better. It's bad to see the poor little squa