It is possible to live with a man and see very little of him.  Where each of the partners lives his own life in his own way, with his own circle of friends and external amusements, days may go by without the men having five minutes together.  Perhaps this explains why these partnerships jog along so much more peaceably than marriages, where the chain is drawn so much tighter, and galls the partners rather than links them.  Diverse, however, as were the hours and habits of the chums, they often breakfasted together, and they agreed in one thing—­they never stayed out at night.  For the rest Peters sought his diversions in the company of journalists, and frequented debating rooms, where he propounded the most iconoclastic views; while Roxdal had highly respectable houses open to him in the suburbs, and was, in fact, engaged to be married to Clara Newell, the charming daughter of a retired corn merchant, a widower with no other child.

[Illustration:  Asked twenty-five per cent.  More.]

Clara naturally took up a good deal of Roxdal’s time, and he often dressed to go to the play with her, while Peters stayed at home in a faded dressing-gown and loose slippers.  Mrs. Seacon liked to see gentlemen about the house in evening dress, and made comparisons not favourable to Peters.  And this in spite of the fact that he gave her infinitely less trouble than the younger man.  It was Peters who first took the apartments, and it was characteristic of his easy-going temperament that he was so openly and naively delighted with the view of the Thames obtainable from the bedroom window, that Mrs. Seacon was emboldened to ask twenty-five per cent. more than she had intended.  She soon returned to her normal terms, however, when his friend Roxdal called the next day to inspect the rooms, and overwhelmed her with a demonstration of their numerous shortcomings.  He pointed out that their being on the ground floor was not an advantage, but a disadvantage, since they were nearer the noises of the street—­in fact, the house being a corner one, the noises of two streets.  Roxdal continued to exhibit the same finicking temperament in the petty details of the menage.  His shirt fronts were never sufficiently starched, nor his boots sufficiently polished.  Tom Peters, having no regard for rigid linen, was always good-tempered and satisfied, and never acquired the respect of his landlady.  He wore blue check shirts and loose ties even on Sundays.  It is true he did net go to church, but slept on till Roxdal returned from morning service, and even then it was difficult to get him out of bed, or to make him hurry up his toilette operations.  Often the mid-day meal would be smoking on the table while Peters would smoke in the bed, and Roxdal, with his head thrust through the folding doors that separated the bedroom from the sitting-room, would be adjuring the sluggard to arise and shake off his slumbers, and threatening