“Come, Monsieur Indolence, and take a walk,” she said.  “I think the policeman’s motto is right—­’Keep moving.’  When one stops to think about anything, even about the heat, it makes it worse.”

Now, however comfortable a man may be, if he is bidden to rise by a pretty woman who stands imperiously over him, the chances are that he obeys.  So it was with Clare.  He most assuredly did not want to go with Mrs. Lancaster, and quite as assuredly he did want to stay just where he was, with the hem of Eleanor Milbourne’s dress touching him and a pervading sense of her presence near, even when she encouraged stupid people to expose their ignorance on the Egyptian question.  Yet he found himself walking away with the pretty widow before five minutes had passed.

“I know you are not obliged to me,” she said when they had gone some distance.  “But your divinity is talking commonplaces, or listening to them, which amounts to the same thing; so I fancied you might spare me ten minutes.  I want to know if that was a mere assertion for effect a minute ago, or if you are in earnest in thinking of going to Egypt?”

“I never talk for effect,” said Victor with a hauteur that was spoilt by a slight touch of petulance.  “I always mean what I say, and I certainly am in earnest in thinking of going to Egypt.”

“May I ask why?”

“I am surprised that you should need to ask.  One’s friends usually know one’s affairs at least as well as one’s self—­sometimes much better.  Everybody who knows me knows that I am a poor man.”

“Not so poor that you need go to Egypt in search of a fortune, however,” said she, stopping short and looking at him keenly.  “Confess,” she added, “that you are about to expatriate yourself in this absurd fashion because Eleanor Milbourne means to marry Marston Brent.”

“Your acuteness has carried you too far,” said he laughing, but not quite naturally.  “Miss Milbourne’s matrimonial choice is nothing to me.  I have thought of this step for some time.  General ——­’s letter is a reply to my application forwarded months ago.  Yet now that the answer has come,” he went on, “I scarcely care to grasp the advantage it offers.  Indifference has infected me like a poison.  I feel more inclined to rust out on the old place than to sound ‘Boots and saddle’ again.”

“But why rust out?” she asked impetuously.  “Are there not careers enough open to you?” Then, after a minute, “Are there not other women in the world besides Eleanor Milbourne?”

“Perhaps so,” a little doggedly.  “There are other stars in the heavens besides Venus, but who sees them when she is above the horizon?”

“How kind and complimentary you are!” said Mrs. Lancaster with a slight tone of bitterness in her voice.

“Forgive me,” said he after a minute.  “I am a fool on this subject, and, like a fool, I always say more than I mean.  No doubt there are other women in the world even more beautiful and more charming than Eleanor Milbourne, but they are nothing to me.”