never to tire of turning round.

"How exactly that bird is like some politicians one could name!" says
Brandolin. "Do you know that this charming garden always reminds me of
St. Hubert's Lea,--our west garden, I mean? I think the same man must
have laid them out. Is it not Bulwer Lytton who says that so long as one
has a garden one always has one room which is roofed by heaven?"

"A heaven mitigated by gardeners' wages,--very considerably mitigated,"
says Usk.

"You are cynical, George, and your mind is running on pounds, shillings,
and pence,--an offence against Nature on such a day as this. There is
nothing so demoralizing as to think of money."

"To have debts and not to think of 'em is more so; and Boom----"

"Sell something of his that he likes very much, to pay his debts: that's
the only way I know of to check a boy at the onset. Your father did it
with me the very first time I owed twenty pounds; and he read me a
lesson I never forgot. I have been eternally obliged to him ever since."

"What did he sell?"

"My cob,--a cob I adored. I wept like a child, but he didn't see my
tears. What I saved up next half to trace out that cob and buy him back
at twice his value,--what I denied myself to make up the money,--nobody
would believe; and the beast wasn't easy to find: some dealer had taken
him over to Ireland."

"That could be done with you," says Usk, gloomily. "It would be no use
to do it with Boom: his mother would buy him some other horse the next
day. You've no chance to bring up a boy decently if he's got a mother!"

"The reverse is the received opinion of mankind," said Brandolin; "but I
believe there's something to be said for your view. No end of women have
no idea of bringing up their children, and when they ought to be ordered
a flogging they fondle them."

"Dolly does," says her husband. "What's a woman's notion of a horse?
That he must have slender legs, a coat like satin, and be fed on apples
and sugar: still, they saw his mouth till he half dislocates his neck,
and tear his ribs open with their spur. They're just as unreasonable
with their children."

"Who is _that_ woman?" says Brandolin, making a step across the window
and into the garden. "Now I am perfectly certain that is Madame
Sabaroff, without your saying so."

"Then I needn't say so," replies Usk. "I wonder when she came. They
didn't expect her till to-morrow."

They both look at a lady in one of the distant alleys walking betwe