still." In the Savoy, his arguments seemed to be justified a
hundredfold. A sense of both content and dignity came to him. He began
almost to believe that money could ennoble as well as satisfy.

Willy Forrest, of course, knew nothing whatever of thoughts such as
these. He was a past master in the art of killing time and he boasted
that he rarely knew an "idle hour." His programme for this day seemed
altogether beyond criticism.

"We'll look in at the club afterwards and play a game of bridge--you can
stand by me and see me win--or perhaps you'd like a side bet. Then we
might turn into the park to give the girls a treat--eh, what?--and go
on to the New Bridge Club to dress. After that there's the old sporting
shanty and a bit of a mill between Neddy Tinker and Marsh Hill. You
never saw a fight, I suppose? Man, but your education has been
neglected."

Alban smiled and admitted his deficiencies.

"I've seen many a set-to in Commercial Road and taken a hand sometimes.
Is it really quite necessary to my education?"

"Absolutely indispensable. You must do everything and be seen
everywhere. If I had time, I'd give you the personal history of half the
light-weights in this room. Look at that black crow in the corner there.
He's a Jew parson from Essex--as rich as bottled beer and always stops
here. Last time I rode a welter down his way they told me his favorite
text was "Blessed are the poor." He's a pretty figurehead for a
bean-feast, isn't he? That chirpy barrister next door has a practice of
fifteen thou. The blighter once cross-examined me in a card-sharping
case and made me look the biggest damned fool in Europe. Did I rest on
my laurels--eh, what? Why, sir, he can't cross a race-course now without
having his pocket picked. My doing, my immortal achievement. The little
Countess next door used to do stunts at the _Nouveau Cirque_. Lord
Saxe-Holt married her when he was hazy and is taming her. That old chap,
who eats like a mule, is Lord Whippingham. He hasn't got a sixpence, and
if you ask me how he lives--well, there are ways and means foreign to
your young and virgin mind. The old geezer used to run after little
Betty Sine at the Apollo--but she put an ice down his back at supper
here one night and then there were partings. Some day I'll take you to
the Blenheim and show you England's aristocracy in arm-chairs--we
haven't time to-day and here's the coffee coming. Pay up and be thankful
that your new pa isn't overd