In the rose garden was an arbour smothered in riotous bloom, and in the arbour was a divan, wide and low and voluptuously soft, meet for the repose of an invalid on a languorous afternoon, or indeed any other time.  But just now the invalid reposed not at all but sat, elbow on knee and square chin on fist, very lonely and therefore very grim.

All about him roses bloomed, filling the air with their sweetness, but he had no eyes for their beauty; upon the table within reach of his hand were books and magazines, but he was in no mood for reading; clasped between strong white teeth he held his favourite pipe unlighted and cold, for tobacco had for him no savour.  So he sat and scowled at the universe in general, and in particular at a robin that had boldly ventured near and was regarding him with a very round, bright eye.

“She’s avoiding me!” said Ravenslee bitterly, teeth clenched upon his pipestem, “there’s no doubt about it, damn it; she’s avoiding me!  And she’s not happy here either!”

The robin turned his head to regard the speaker with his other eye, then fluttered his wings and flew away as the lazy quiet of the afternoon was broken by the squeak of shoe leather, and glancing up, Ravenslee beheld the Old Un.

“What cheer, Guv,” said he, “greetin’s doo and how’s the invalid?”

“Invalid!” repeated Ravenslee, scowling again, “I’m no invalid!”

“Spoke like a true-bred gamecock, s’ help me!”

“I’m as right as rain physically, Old Un, but—­”

“Talkin’ o’ physic, Guv,” said the old man, seating himself and nodding brightly, “talkin’ o’ physic, the physic as set you on your pins again was love, Guv, love!”

“But it so happens—­”

“Wait a bit, I ain’t done, Guv!  ’Ere ’s me, a old cove as ’as lived ‘ears an’ ‘ears an’ ‘ears an’ ’ears longer ’n you, so nacherally I’m a powerful lot fuller o’ th’ wisdom o’ life than you, specially in matters o’ th’ ’eart, Guv.  Now me, ‘avin’ ‘elped you into th’ matrimonial ring, as you might say, ’ave took your ‘appiness under my wing, an’, Guv, I don’t like the way you’re shapin’—­”

“But you see—­”

“’Old ’ard, Guv, let a pore old cove get a word in for a change.  Now there’s you an’ ’er, your fair young spouse, both up to each other’s weight, sound in wind an’ limb an’ meant for j’y—­what I want is t’ see you come to a clinch!  This ain’t no time for sparrin’ an’ out-fightin’—­yet ‘ere you are a-feintin’ at each other from opposite corners—­”

“But—­”

“‘Arf a mo’, Guv, ‘arf a mo’—­gimme a chance for a occasional word!  An’ don’t frown, Guv, don’t frown at a pore old cove; y’ see, there’s jest three blokes in this ’ard world as my old ‘eart warms to, an’ one on ’em ‘s Joe, an’ t’ other un ‘s you, an’ t’ other un ’s ’er—­which ain’t a bloke.  Lord, Guv, what a soft armful o’ beauty!  ‘Ow warm an’ cuddlesome!  Oh, Guv, what a waist!  What lips!  What—­”