e it where it is now, where it will lie, I dare say, until the
crack of doom--behind the overmantel in the servants' parlour,
gentlemen, with its back to the wall.

Anthony, then, was gone, and Patch with him. The Judge had been gone
some time. Mr. Morgan also had left the neighbourhood, and was earning
good money in the West End by the simple expedient of wearing the Mons
medal, to which, never having seen "service," he was not entitled, and
perambulating the gutters of South Kensington with a child in his arms.
The child was heavy and cost him sixpence a day, but, as an incentive
to charity, it left the rendering of "Abide with Me," upon which Mr.
Morgan had previously relied, simply nowhere.

Lady Touchstone and Valerie were still at Bell Hammer. More than once
the latter had revived her suggestion of a visit to the South of
France. Each time Valerie had applauded the idea and then promptly
switched the conversation on to another topic.... Women understand
women, and with a sigh her aunt resigned herself to the prospect of a
winter in Hampshire. Return to Town she would not. London was not
what it had been, and the vanities of the metropolis fell dismally
short of the old pre-War standard. You were robbed, too, openly,
wherever you went. With tears in their eyes, shopkeepers offered you
stones instead of bread, and charged you for fishes. Besides,
unemployment was booming, routs were frequent, rioting was in the
air.... Lady Touchstone decided that, if she was not to snuff the
zephyrs of Nice, the smell of the woods of Bell Hammer was good enough
for her nostrils.

If Lyveden had lost weight, Miss French had gained none. The blow that
had fallen all but a month ago had hit her as hard as him. Yet, of the
two, her plight was less evil. Each of them had dropped in their
tracks, which is to say that, while Lyveden had fallen upon the rough
ground of bare existence. Miss French had fallen into the lap of
luxury.

I am prepared to be told that this should have made no difference--that
creature comforts cannot minister to a broken heart. But, sirs, the
flesh and the spirit are thicker than that. The iron must have entered
uncommon deep into the soul for the body no longer to care whether the
bath-water run hot or cold.

For all that, the girl was desperately unhappy. That she should have
been bracketed with Anne was bad enough; that they should have been
wooed in the same nest, to say the least, sma