listening to a most eloquent sermon, after making a solemn resolution to
give up all your bad habits----

_Lucas._ Excuse me, I expressly stated that I didn't mean to give up
_all_ my bad habits. And I don't call this a bad habit.

_Matt._ You don't call making love to a married woman a bad habit?!

_Lucas._ Of course in one sense it is a bad habit. But it isn't a bad
habit in the sense that other bad habits are bad habits. Look at all the
decent chaps who've been led into it!

_Matt._ That doesn't excuse you. And if you think that I'm going to
countenance your conduct, you are very much mistaken in your estimate of
my character.

_Lucas._ [_Very quietly._] May I ask you one simple question?

_Matt._ Well?

_Lucas._ When you were my age, if you found yourself alone in a dairy
with a good-looking woman, and she was good for a dozen kisses or so,
wouldn't you have taken advantage of it?

_Matt._ No!

_Lucas._ Not at my age?

_Matt._ No--no----

_Lucas._ Well, what would you have done?

_Matt._ I should have summoned all my resolution----

_Lucas._ Oh, that be hanged! Come, Uncle, no humbug! Man to man!

_Matt._ Well, I don't say that at your age I might not have been
tempted--and of course we must all go through a certain amount of
experience, or how should we be able to advise you youngsters?

_Lucas._ I say, no confounded nonsense--your uncle Archie----

_Matt._ Dear old chap!

_Lucas._ What use did you make of his advice?

_Matt._ Well, I remember his talking to me very seriously--I suppose I
was about your age--did I ever tell you, Lucas, [_taking_ LUCAS'S _arm
affectionately_] about a very remarkable auburn-haired girl, Madge
Seaforth?

_Lucas._ No.

_Matt._ And my racing her across Salisbury Plain at night?

_Lucas._ No.

_Matt._ Forty-eight miles one glorious May night! I let her beat me! God
bless her! I let her beat me! And just as the sun rose we caught sight
of Salisbury spire.

_Lucas._ Sounds rather jolly!

_Matt._ Jolly? And the bacon and eggs we got through for breakfast!
Jolly? It was romance! It was poetry! Ah! Lu, my boy, you may say what
you like, there's nothing like it on this side heaven. I told you about
Mrs. Satterwaite dressing up as a widow and selling her husband?

_Lucas._ No?

_Matt._ Well, I bet the little hussy a fiver. Oh, Satterwaite richly
deserved all he got--I can see Satterwaite's face now, and hers, as she
stepped out of the cupboard, with the wicke