of roses.

"They've got to be good ones, and you ought to be able to get stacks
for two quid. I shan't want them till to-morrow morning, so they've
got to be fresh. You'd better get them as late as you can, and put
them in water directly you get in. That's all."

"Very good, my lord."

Lord Pomfret returned to the perusal of _La Vie_, and Anthony stepped
to the door. As he was passing out--

"Lyveden," said his lordship sharply.

"Yes, my lord."

"I shall want to see the bill."

Anthony hesitated, inwardly raging. Then--

"Very good, my lord," he said huskily.

Ten minutes later he was out of the house.

Along the road of Life goes bowling the coach of Destiny, and we poor
passengers inside know neither whither we are being borne nor how long
shall be our journey. Now and again the horses are pulled up, the door
is opened, that grim guard Fate calls out a name, and one of us climbs
pitifully forth, to pass with faltering steps into a sable hostelry.
We that are left behind peer after him curiously.... Then the door is
slammed, with a lurch the coach is off again on its eternal wayfaring,
and we poor passengers inside sit betwixt hope and fear, wondering
vainly what the next mile of road will bring to each of us.

Climb up upon the box-seat, gentlemen, if you will see what is to
become of Anthony: so I am with you, you will not be sent packing.

Look how he is being borne unwitting over the Bridge of Care, into the
Valley of Love, by Thicket Perilous, clean through the Waters of Anger
to where the white road curls over that grey upland, and we can see it
no more. As well for Anthony that he has not our knowledge. The next
league or so will play the deuce with his emotions....

One last look, gentlemen. Can you see that cypress there, tall by the
wayside, down in the Valley of Love? We will descend there, by your
leave, for the driver will pull up his horses and the coach will stop.
A dog has to be set down--a little dog, gentlemen, with rough hair and
as soft brown eyes as ever you saw....

Anthony covered the distance between the station and the Dogs' Home at
a good round pace. In fact, he was somewhat out of breath when a maid
admitted him to the house and, leaving him in the hall, went in search
of the superintendent.

As the fair-haired girl made her appearance, his heart began to beat
furiously.

"How's my little dog?" he said jerkily.

The girl looked grave.

"I'm afraid he's pre