n London bookseller's, turning over books that dealt with the
theory and practice of elementary education. Two or three of them he
selected, and ordered to be sent to a lady at Gunnersbury. On his way
out he came upon an acquaintance making a purchase in another
department of the shop. It was some months since he had seen Cecil
Morphew, who looked in indifferent health, and in his dress came near
to shabbiness. They passed out together, Morphew carrying an enwrapped
volume, which he gave Rolfe to understand was a birthday present--for
_her_. The elder man resisted his inclination to joke, and asked how
things were going on.

'Much the same as usual, except that her father is in very bad health.
It's brutal, but I wish he would die.'

'Naturally.'

'That's what one's driven to, you see. And anyone but you, who know me,
would set me down as a selfish, calculating beast. Can't help it. I had
rather have her penniless.--Will you come in here with me? I want to
buy some pyrogallic acid.'

In the street again, Morphew mentioned that he had taken up photography.

'It gives me something to do, and it takes me out into the open air.
This beastly town is the ruin of me, in every way.--Come to my rooms
for an hour, will you? I'll show you some attempts; I've only just
tried my hand at developing. And it's a long time since we had a talk.'

They made for a Chelsea omnibus and mounted.

'I thought you were never in town at this time,' Morphew resumed. 'I
want to get away, but can't afford it; devilish low-water with me. I
must have a bicycle. With that and the camera I may just manage to
live; often there seems little enough to live for.--Tripcony? Oh,
Tripcony's a damned swindler; I've given him up. Speculation isn't
quite so simple as I imagined. I made a couple of hundred, though--yes,
and lost nearly three.'

The young man's laugh was less pleasant to hear than formerly.
Altogether, Rolfe observed in him a decline, a loss of refinement as
well as of vitality.

'Why don't you go into the country?' he said. 'Take a cottage and grow
cabbages; dig for three hours a day. It would do you no end of good.'

'Of course it would. I wish I had the courage.'

'I'm going to spend the winter in Wales,' said Harvey. 'An
out-of-the-world place in Carnarvonshire--mountains and sea. Come along
with me, and get the mephitis blown out of you. You've got town
disease, street-malaria, lodging-house fever.'

'By Jove, I'll think of it,'