aturdays Joseph Loveredge discarded eggs and
ate a rasher of bacon. On Sundays Joseph Loveredge had both eggs and
bacon, but then allowed himself half an hour longer for reading the
paper. At nine-thirty Joseph Loveredge left the house for the office of
the old-established journal of which he was the incorruptible and
honoured City editor. At one-forty-five, having left his office at one-
thirty, Joseph Loveredge entered the Autolycus Club and sat down to
lunch. Everything else in Joseph's life was arranged with similar
preciseness, so far as was possible with the duties of a City editor.
Monday evening Joseph spent with musical friends at Brixton. Friday was
Joseph's theatre night. On Tuesdays and Thursdays he was open to receive
invitations out to dinner; on Wednesdays and Saturdays he invited four
friends to dine with him at Regent's Park. On Sundays, whatever the
season, Joseph Loveredge took an excursion into the country. He had his
regular hours for reading, his regular hours for thinking. Whether in
Fleet Street, or the Tyrol, on the Thames, or in the Vatican, you might
recognise him from afar by his grey frock-coat, his patent-leather boots,
his brown felt hat, his lavender tie. The man was a born bachelor. When
the news of his engagement crept through the smoky portals of the
Autolycus Club nobody believed it.

"Impossible!" asserted Jack Herring. "I've known Joey's life for fifteen
years. Every five minutes is arranged for. He could never have found
the time to do it."

"He doesn't like women, not in that way; I've heard him say so,"
explained Alexander the Poet. "His opinion is that women are the artists
of Society--delightful as entertainers, but troublesome to live with."

"I call to mind," said the Wee Laddie, "a story he told me in this verra
room, barely three months agone: Some half a dozen of them were gong home
together from the Devonshire. They had had a joyous evening, and one of
them--Joey did not notice which--suggested their dropping in at his place
just for a final whisky. They were laughing and talking in the dining-
room, when their hostess suddenly appeared upon the scene in a costume--so
Joey described it--the charm of which was its variety. She was a nice-
looking woman, Joey said, but talked too much; and when the first lull
occurred, Joey turned to the man sitting nighest to him, and who looked
bored, and suggested in a whisper that it was about time they went.

"'Per