At night she could walk about the town, go to the theatre, stroll along the Embankment and attract no man’s offensive attentions.  She could enter where she liked for a meal, a cup of tea, frequent the museum of the Royal College of Surgeons when she would without waiting for a “ladies” day; stop to look at a street fight, cause no sour looks if she entered a smoking compartment on the train, mingle with the man-world unquestioned, unhindered, unnoticed, exciting at most a pleasant off-hand camaraderie due to her youth and good looks.

Should she go on with the bold adventure?  A thousand times yes!  David should break no law in Vivie’s code of honour, do real wrong to no one; but Vivie should see the life best worth living in London from a man’s standpoint.

David however must be armed at every point and have his course clearly marked out before his contemplation.  He must steep himself in the geography of South Africa—­Why not get Rossiter to propose him as a fellow of the Royal Geographical Society?  That would be a lark because they wouldn’t admit women as members:  they had refused Honoria Fraser.  David must read up—­somewhere—­the history of the South African War as far as it went.  He had better find out something about the Bechuanaland Police Force; how as a member of such a force he could have drifted as far south as the vicinity of Colesberg; how thereabouts he could have got sick enough—­he certainly would say nothing more about a wound—­to have been put into hospital.  He must find out how he could have escaped from the Boers and come back to England without getting into difficulties with the military or the Colonial Office or whoever had any kind of control over the members of the Bechuanaland Border Police....

But the whole South African episode had better be dropped.  Rossiter, after his appeal, would set himself to forget and ignore it.  It must be damped down in the poor old father’s mind as of relative unimportance—­after all, his father was a recluse who did not have many visitors ... by the bye, he must remember to write on the morrow and explain why he could not come down for Christmas or the New Year ... would promise a good long visit in the Easter holidays instead—­Must remember that resolution to learn up some Welsh.  What a nuisance it was that you couldn’t buy anywhere in London or in South Wales any book about modern conversation in Welsh.  The sort of Welsh you learnt in the old-fashioned books, which were all that could be got, was Biblical language—­Some one had told David that if you went into Smithfield Market in the early morning you might meet the Welsh farmers and stock-drivers who had come up from Wales during the night and who held forth in the Cymric tongue over their beasts.  But probably their language was such as would shock Nannie....  Supposing Frank Gardner did come to England?  In that case it might be safer to confide in Frank.  He was harum-scarum, but he was chivalrous