's all very well. But----"

"None of your blooming 'buts'!" cried Uvo, with almost delirious levity.
"I should have thought this instance was concrete enough even for you.
But we'll talk about it at the Mitre and consider what to do."

In that talk I joined, into those considerations I entered, without
arguing at all. It did not commit me to a single article of a repugnant
creed, but neither on the other hand did it impair the excellence of
Delavoye's company at a hurried feast which still stands out in my
recollection. I remember the long red wall of Hampton Court as the one
warm feature of the hard-bitten landscape. I remember red wine in our
glasses, a tinge of colour in the dusky face that leant toward mine, and
a wondrous flow of eager talk, delightful as long as one did not take it
too seriously. My own attitude I recapture most securely in Uvo's
accusation that I smiled and smiled and was a sceptic. It was one of
those characteristic remarks that stick for no other reason. Uvo
Delavoye was not in those days at all widely read; but he had a large
circle of quotations which were not altogether unfamiliar to me, and I
eventually realised that he knew his _Hamlet_ almost off by heart.

But as yet poor Berridge's "pangs and fears" was original Delavoye to my
ruder culture; and the next time I saw him, on the Friday night, the
pangs seemed keener and the fears even more enervating than before.
Again he sat with us in Uvo's room; but he was oftener on his legs,
striding up and down, muttering and gesticulating as he strode. In the
end Uvo took a strong line with him. I was waiting for it. He had
conceived the scheme at Hampton Court, and I was curious to see how it
would be received.

"This can't go on, Berridge! I'll see you through--to the bitter end!"

Uvo was not an actor, yet here was a magnificent piece of acting,
because it was more than half sincere.

"Will you really, Delavoye?" cried the accountant, shrinking a little
from his luck.

"Rather! I'm not going to let you go stark mad under my nose. Give me
that ring."

"My--_her_--ring?"

"Of course; it's your engagement ring, isn't it? And it's your duty, to
yourself and her and everybody else, to break off that engagement with
as little further delay as possible."

"But are you sure, Delavoye?"

"Certain. Give it to me."

"It seems such a frightful thing to do!"

"We'll see about that. Thank you; now you're your own man again."

And now I reall