cter; if he saw a horse that he liked, he put his money
on whatever it ran; if charmed by an opera, he went over and over again;
if by a poem, he almost learned it by heart. And while he walked along
the river--his usual route--he had queer and unaccustomed sensations,
now melting, now pugnacious. And he felt happy.

He was rather late, and went at once into court. In wig and gown, that
something "old Georgian" about him was very visible. A beauty-spot or
two, a full-skirted velvet coat, a sword and snuff-box, with that
grey wig or its equivalent, and there would have been a perfect
eighteenth-century specimen of the less bucolic stamp--the same strong,
light build, breadth of face, brown pallor, clean and unpinched cut of
lips, the same slight insolence and devil-may-caredom, the same clear
glance, and bubble of vitality. It was almost a pity to have been born
so late.

Except that once or twice he drew a face on blotting-paper and smeared
it over, he remained normally attentive to his "lud" and the matters in
hand all day, conducted without error the examination of two witnesses
and with terror the cross-examination of one; lunched at the Courts in
perfect amity with the sucking barrister on the other side of the case,
for they had neither, as yet, reached that maturity which enables an
advocate to call his enemy his "friend," and treat him with considerable
asperity. Though among his acquaintances Summerhay always provoked
badinage, in which he was scarcely ever defeated, yet in chambers and
court, on circuit, at his club, in society or the hunting-field, he had
an unfavourable effect on the grosser sort of stories. There are men--by
no means strikingly moral--who exercise this blighting influence. They
are generally what the French call "spirituel," and often have rather
desperate love-affairs which they keep very closely to themselves.

When at last in chambers, he had washed off that special reek of
clothes, and parchment, far-away herrings, and distemper, which clings
about the law, dipping his whole curly head in water, and towelling
vigorously, he set forth alone along the Embankment, his hat tilted up,
smoking a cigar. It was nearly seven. Just this time yesterday he had
got into the train, just this time yesterday turned and seen the face
which had refused to leave him since. Fever recurs at certain hours,
just so did the desire to see her mount within him, becoming an
obsession, because it was impossible t