no notice of it whatever.

"... if you will make an appointment, when we can discuss the matter
without prejudice. Get those typed, Miss Milliken. Have a cigar, Sam.
Miss Milliken, tell Peters as you go out that I am occupied with a
conference and can see nobody for half an hour."

When Miss Milliken had withdrawn Sir Mallaby occupied ten seconds of the
period which he had set aside for communion with his son in staring
silently at him.

"I'm glad you're back, Sam," he said at length. "I want to have a talk
with you. You know, it's time you were settling down. I've been thinking
about you while you were in America and I've come to the conclusion that
I've been letting you drift along. Very bad for a young man. You're
getting on. I don't say you're senile, but you're not twenty-one any
longer, and at your age I was working like a beaver. You've got to
remember that life is--dash it! I've forgotten it again." He broke off
and puffed vigorously into the speaking tube. "Miss Milliken, kindly
repeat what you were saying just now about life.... Yes, yes, that's
enough!" He put down the instrument. "Yes, life is real, life is
earnest," he said, gazing at Sam seriously, "and the grave is not our
goal. Lives of great men all remind us we can make our lives sublime. In
fact, it's time you took your coat off and started work."

"I am quite ready, father."

"You didn't hear what I said," exclaimed Sir Mallaby, with a look of
surprise. "I said it was time you began work."

"And I said I was quite ready."

"Bless my soul! You've changed your views a trifle since I saw you
last."

"I have changed them altogether."

Long hours of brooding among the red plush settees in the lounge of the
Hotel Magnificent at Bingley-on-the-Sea had brought about this strange,
even morbid, attitude of mind in Samuel Marlowe. Work, he had decided,
was the only medicine for his sick soul. Here, he felt, in this quiet
office, far from the tumult and noise of the world, in a haven of torts
and misdemeanours and Vic. I. cap. 3's, and all the rest of it, he might
find peace. At any rate, it was worth taking a stab at it.

"Your trip has done you good," said Sir Mallaby approvingly. "The sea
air has given you some sense. I'm glad of it. It makes it easier for me
to say something else that I've had on my mind for a good while. Sam,
it's time you got married."

Sam barked bitterly. His father looked at him with concern.

"Swallow some smoke the wro