but shrubs want science." Lucy felt rebuked.
She had desiderated more flowers. James, who knew nothing and cared
little about gardens, passed approval of the house and offices. "It
doesn't smell of money," he said, "and yet you see what a lot it means
when you look into it." Success, in fact, without visible effort: one
of James's high standards. He didn't know how Jimmy got his money, but
had no doubts at all of its being there. A man who could lend Francis
Lingen L10,000 without a thought must be _richissime_. Yet Jimmy had
no men-servants in the house, and James glared about him for the
reason. Lucy had a reason. "I suppose, you know, he wants to be really
comfortable," she proposed, and James transferred his mild abhorrence
to her. "Comfortable, without a fellow to put out his things!" He
scoffed at her. But she was rather short with him, even testy. "My
dear James, Mr. Urquhart's things are things to be put on or taken
off--like Lord Considine's 'so-called clothes.' To you they seem to be
robes of ceremony, or sacrificial vestments." James stared rather
through than at her, as if some enemy lurked behind her. "My clothes
seem to annoy you. May I suggest that somebody must get the mud off
them, and that I had rather it wasn't me? As for ceremony--" But she
had gone. James shrugged her out of mind, and wondered vaguely if she
was rather attracted by Jimmy Urquhart. It was bound to be
somebody--at her age. Thirty-two she must be, when they begin to like
a fling. Well, there was nothing in it. Later on it occurred to him
that she was looking uncommonly well just now. He saw her, in white,
cross the lawn: a springy motion, a quick lift, turn of the head. She
looked a girl, and a pretty one at that. His heart warmed to her. How
could a man have a better wife than that? Success without effort
again! There it was.

The evening came, the close of a hot and airless day. The sun set
heavy and red. A bluish mist seemed to steal out of the forest and
shroud the house. The terrace was not used after dinner, and when the
men joined Vera and her in the drawing-room Lord Considine, who had
proposed a game of chess to James at the table, now came forward with
board and box of men. Nugent, as usual, had disappeared. "He's dormant
when there's no hunting," his wife explained. "He has nothing to kill
and hates his fellow-creatures." "Then," said James, "he might kill
some of them. I could furnish him with a rough list." Lucy felt
res