eglected them shamefully of late.
Unquestionably Helen counted for very much, would continue to do so. He
supposed he would carry the ache of certain memories about with him
henceforth and forever. She had become part of the very fibre of his
life. He never doubted that. And yet, he told himself--assuming a
second-hand garment of slightly cynical philosophy which suited
singularly ill with the love-light in his eyes, there radiantly
apparent for all the world to see--that woman, even the one who first
shows you you have a heart--and a body too, worse luck--even she is but
a drop in the vast ocean of things. There remains all The Rest. And
with praiseworthy diligence Dickie set himself to reckon how immensely
much all The Rest amounts to. There is plenty, exclusive of her, to
think about. More than enough, indeed, to keep one hard at work all
day, and send one to bed honestly tired, to sleeping-point, at night.
Politics for instance, science, literature, entertaining little
controversial rows of sorts--the simple, almost patriarchal duties of a
great land-owner; pleasant hobbies such as the collection of first
editions, or a pretty taste in the binding of favourite books--the
observation of this mysterious, ever young, ever fertile nature around
him now, immutable order underlaying ceaseless change, the ever new
wonder and beauty of all that, and:--"I say, Chifney, isn't the brown
Lady-Love filly going rather short on the off foreleg? Anything wrong
with her shoulder?"--and sport. Yes, thank God, in the name of
everything healthy and virile, sport and, above all, horses--yes,
horses.

Thus did Richard Calmady reason with and essay to solace himself for
the fact that some fruits are forbidden to him who holds honour dear.
Reasoned with and solaced himself to such good purpose, as he fondly
imagined, that when, an hour and a half later, he established himself
in the trainer's dining-room, a mighty breakfast outspread before him,
he felt quite another man. Racing cups adorned the chimneypiece and
sideboard, portraits of race-horses and jockeys adorned the walls. The
sun streamed in between the red rep curtains, causing the pot-plants in
the window to give off a pleasant scent, and the canary, in his
swinging blue and white painted cage above them, to sing. Mrs. Chifney,
her cheeks pink, her manner slightly fluttered,--as were her lilac cap
strings,--presided over the silver tea and coffee service, admonished
the staid and