He continued tenderly, almost affectionately. “I propose,” Sir John said, “that we pay for our dinner—which we haven’t had— tip the garçon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz. You were content, and I came to thrive on your happiness. I sang to him, and he was satisfied. I was the black sheep, I was hurried out of the way. In the retrospect she was amazed to think how things had gone to pieces, for at the outset she had been quite prepared to go home again upon terms. Buried under various ancestral sixteenths, smothered under modern thought, liberty of action and bewildering variety of flesh-pots, it was still alive to the extent that it needed only his present state to resuscitate it in all its peculiar force. Too easily roused emotions and too little passion. “You see,” he said, “you are like an inaccessible gold-mine in all this sort of matter. ' Avoid taverns and bad company, and you may yet do well.
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