they could get it better done for fifteen shillings a week by somebody else—­they don’t mind coming back to their families with the seeds of typhus about their gowns; and when they crush the affections in order to worship at the shrine of duty, they don’t consider that they may be making martyr of other folks, who don’t want martyrdom and get no sort of pleasure out of it.  Now, what in all the world is the good of work as work?  I believe that work is an unmistakable evil, but when it is a necessity I suppose you get some sort of selfish satisfaction in over-coming it; and doubtless if there was any immediate necessity in my case—­I don’t deny the necessity may arise, and that I should like nothing better than to work for Sheila’s sake—­”

“Now you are coming to the point,” said Ingram, who had been listening with his usual patience to his friend’s somewhat chaotic speculations.  “Perhaps you may have to work for your wife’s sake and your own; and I confess I am surprised to see you so content with your present circumstances.  If your aunt’s property legally reverted to you, if you had any sort of family claim on it, that would make some little difference; but you know that any sudden quarrel between you might leave you penniless to-morrow.”

“In which case I should begin to work to-morrow, and I should come to you for my first commission.”

“And you shouldn’t have it.  I would leave you to go and fight the world for yourself; without which a man knows nothing of himself or of his relations with those around him.”

“Frank, dear, here are the cigarettes,” said Sheila at this point; and as she came and sat down the discussion ceased.

For Sheila began to tell her friend of all the strange adventures that had befallen her since she left the far island of Lewis—­how she had seen with fear the great mountains of Skye lit up by the wild glare of a stormy sunrise; how she had seen with astonishment the great fir-woods of Armadale; and how green and beautiful were the shores of the Sound of Mull.  And then Oban, with its shining houses, its blue bay and its magnificent trees, all lit up by a fair and still sunshine!  She had not imagined there was anywhere in the world so beautiful a place, and could scarcely believe that London itself was more rich and noble and impressive; for there were beautiful ladies walking along the broad pavements, and there were shops with large windows that seemed to contain everything that the mind could desire, and there was a whole fleet of yachts in the bay.  But it was the trees, above all, that captivated her; and she asked if they were lords who owned those beautiful houses built up on the hill and half smothered among lilacs and ash trees and rowan trees and ivy.

“My darling,” Lavender had said to her, “if your papa were to come and live here, he could buy half a dozen of those cottages, gardens and all.  They are mostly the property of well-to-do shopkeepers.  If this little place takes your fancy, what will you say when you go South—­when you see Wimbledon and Richmond and Kew, with their grand old commons and trees?  Why, you could hide Oban in a corner of Richmond Park!”