dropped so heavily above Miss Allan's head.
Here was the gentleman who, a few hours previously, in the shade of the
curtain, had seemed to consist entirely of legs. Deep in an arm-chair he
was reading the third volume of Gibbon's _History_ _of_ _the_ _Decline_
_and_ _Fall_ _of_ _Rome_ by candle-light. As he read he knocked the ash
automatically, now and again, from his cigarette and turned the page,
while a whole procession of splendid sentences entered his capacious
brow and went marching through his brain in order. It seemed likely
that this process might continue for an hour or more, until the entire
regiment had shifted its quarters, had not the door opened, and the
young man, who was inclined to be stout, come in with large naked feet.

"Oh, Hirst, what I forgot to say was--"

"Two minutes," said Hirst, raising his finger.

He safely stowed away the last words of the paragraph.

"What was it you forgot to say?" he asked.

"D'you think you _do_ make enough allowance for feelings?" asked Mr.
Hewet. He had again forgotten what he had meant to say.

After intense contemplation of the immaculate Gibbon Mr. Hirst smiled at
the question of his friend. He laid aside his book and considered.

"I should call yours a singularly untidy mind," he observed. "Feelings?
Aren't they just what we do allow for? We put love up there, and all the
rest somewhere down below." With his left hand he indicated the top of a
pyramid, and with his right the base.

"But you didn't get out of bed to tell me that," he added severely.

"I got out of bed," said Hewet vaguely, "merely to talk I suppose."

"Meanwhile I shall undress," said Hirst. When naked of all but his
shirt, and bent over the basin, Mr. Hirst no longer impressed one with
the majesty of his intellect, but with the pathos of his young yet ugly
body, for he stooped, and he was so thin that there were dark lines
between the different bones of his neck and shoulders.

"Women interest me," said Hewet, who, sitting on the bed with his chin
resting on his knees, paid no attention to the undressing of Mr. Hirst.

"They're so stupid," said Hirst. "You're sitting on my pyjamas."

"I suppose they _are_ stupid?" Hewet wondered.

"There can't be two opinions about that, I imagine," said Hirst,
hopping briskly across the room, "unless you're in love--that fat woman
Warrington?" he enquired.

"Not one fat woman--all fat women," Hewet sighed.

"The women I saw to-night were not f