Why should he stand it any longer?

He would go home to the woman he loved. "Do you mind if I give up
Salisbury?"

"But we've seen nothing!" cried Stephen.

"I shouldn't enjoy anything, I am so absurdly tired."

"Left turn, then--all in the day's work." He bit at his moustache
angrily.

"Good gracious me, man!--of course I'm going back alone. I'm not going
to spoil your day. How could you think it of me?"

Stephen gave a loud sigh of relief. "If you do want to go home, here's
your whip. Don't fall off. Say to her you wanted it, or there might be
ructions."

"Certainly. Thank you for your kind care of me."

"'Old Em'ly she limps, And as--'"

Soon he was out of earshot. Soon they were lost to view. Soon they were
out of his thoughts. He forgot the coarseness and the drinking and the
ingratitude. A few months ago he would not have forgotten so quickly,
and he might also have detected something else. But a lover is dogmatic.
To him the world shall be beautiful and pure. When it is not, he ignores
it.

"He's not tired," said Stephen to the soldier; "he wants his girl." And
they winked at each other, and cracked jokes over the eternal comedy of
love. They asked each other if they'd let a girl spoil a morning's ride.
They both exhibited a profound cynicism. Stephen, who was quite without
ballast, described the household at Cadover: he should say that Rickie
would find Miss Pembroke kissing the footman.

"I say the footman's kissing old Em'ly."

"Jolly day," said Stephen. His voice was suddenly constrained. He was
not sure whether he liked the soldier after all, nor whether he had been
wise in showing him his compositions.

"'Old Em'ly she limps, And as--'"

"All right, Thomas. That'll do."

"Old Em'ly--'"

"I wish you'd dry up, like a good fellow. This is the lady's horse, you
know, hang it, after all."

"In-deed!"

"Don't you see--when a fellow's on a horse, he can't let another
fellow--kind of--don't you know?"

The man did know. "There's sense in that." he said approvingly. Peace
was restored, and they would have reached Salisbury if they had not had
some more beer. It unloosed the soldier's fancies, and again he spoke of
old Em'ly, and recited the poem, with Aristophanic variations.

"Jolly day," repeated Stephen, with a straightening of the eyebrows
and a quick glance at the other's body. He then warned him against
the variations. In consequence he was accused of being a member of the
Y.M.C.A.