had railed at the futility of canine effort. To
Lola, who had put forth all her artillery of artless and harmless
coquetry in voice and gesture, in order to lure my thoughts into
pleasanter ways, I exhibited the querulous grumpiness of a spoiled
village octogenarian. We discussed the weather, which was worth
discussing, for the spring, after long tarrying, had come. It was early
May. Lola laughed.

"The spring has got into my blood."

"It hasn't got into mine," I declared. "It never will. I wonder what the
deuce is the matter with me."

Then Lola had said, "My dear Simon, I know. You're not quite alive even
yet."

I walked homewards pestered by the phrase. What did she mean by it?
I stopped at the island round the clock-tower by Victoria Station and
bought a couple of newspapers. There, in the centre of the whirlpool
where swam dizzily omnibuses, luggage-laden cabs, whirling motors,
feverish, train-seeking humans, dirty newsboys, I stood absently saying
to myself, "You're not quite alive even yet."

A hand gripped my arm and a cheery voice said "Hallo!" I started and
recognised Rex Campion. I also said "Hallo!" and shook hands with him.
We had not met since the days when, having heard of my Monte Cristo
lavishness, he had called at the Albany and had beguiled me into giving
a thousand pounds to his beloved "Barbara's Building," the prodigious
philanthropic institution which he had founded in the slums of South
Lambeth. In spite of my dead and dazed state of being I was pleased to
see his saturnine black-bearded face, and to hear his big voice. He was
one of those men who always talked like a megaphone. The porticoes of
Victoria Station re-echoed with his salutations. I greeted him less
vociferously, but with equal cordiality.

"You're looking very fit. I head that you had gone through a miraculous
operation. How are you?"

"Perfectly well," said I, "but I've been told that I'm not quite alive
even yet."

He looked anxious. "Remains of trouble?"

"Not a vestige," I laughed.

"That's all right," he said breezily. "Now come along and hear Milligan
speak."

It did not occur to him that I might have work, worries, or engagements,
or that the evening's entertainment which he offered me might be the
last thing I should appreciate. His head, for the moment, was full
of Milligan, and it seemed to him only natural that the head of all
humanity should be full of Milligan too. I made a wry face.

"That son of thund