“Is superb,” the old man concluded.  “That’s about what I supposed he’d be.  You could hardly imagine Olivia Guion picking out any other kind—­especially as it’s a kind that’s as thick as blackberries in their army.”

Davenant corroborated this by a brief account of what Ashley proposed to do.  Light gleamed in the old man’s eyes and a smile broke the shaggy crevice between his beard and mustache as he listened.

“Splendid!  Splendid!” he commented, now at one point and now at another of the information Peter was imparting.  “Sell his estate and pay up?  That’s downright sporting, isn’t it?”

“Oh, he’s sporting enough.”

“And what a grand thing for you to get your money back.  I thought you would some day—­if Vic de Melcourt ever came to hear of what you’d done; but I didn’t expect it so soon.”

Davenant turned away.  “I wasn’t in a hurry.”

“No; but he is.  That’s the point.  That’s where the beauty of it comes in for Olivia and you.”

Peter looked blank.  “Olivia and—­me?”

“He’s doing right,” the old man explained, taking hold of the lapel of Davenant’s coat, “or what he conceives to be right; and no one man can do that without putting us into a better position all round.  Doing right,” he continued, emphasizing his words by shaking the lapel and hammering on Peter’s breast—­“doing right is the solution of all the difficulties into which we get ourselves tied up by shilly-shallying and doing wrong.  If Ashley were to hang fire you wouldn’t know where the devil you were.  But now that he’s going straight, it leaves you free to do the same.”

“It leaves me free to cut and run.”  He made little effort to conceal his bitterness.

“Then cut and run, if that’s what you feel impelled to do.  You won’t run far before you see you’re running to a purpose.  I’ll cut and run, too,” he added, cheerfully.  “I’ll be off to see Olivia, and tell her she’s made a catch.”

Davenant was glad to be able to resume his tramp.  “Poor old chap,” he said to himself; “a lot he knows about it!  It’s damned easy to do right when you’ve got everything your own way.”

Having everything his own way was the happy position in which he placed Rupert Ashley, seeing he was able to marry Olivia Guion by the simple process of selling an estate.  There was no more to that in Davenant’s estimation than to his own light parting with his stocks and bonds.  Whatever sacrifice the act might entail would have ample compensation, since the giving up of the temporal and non-essential would secure supreme and everlasting bliss.  He would gladly have spared a hand or an eye for a mere chance at the same reward.