There was a young man whose hobby was dress and chorus girls.  There was a young man whose hobby was pet birds; he talked about the beautiful South American bird he had just bought, and he asked you to come and see it taking its bath in the morning.  Several persons were writing law-books, which their authors hoped would rival Chitty on Contracts.

The Temple, like a fatherland, never loses its influence over its children.  He who has lived in the Temple will return to the Temple.  All things are surrendered for the Temple.  All distances are traversed to reach the Temple.  The Temple is never forgotten.  The briefless barrister, who left in despair and became Attorney-General of New South Wales, grows homesick, surrenders his position, and returns.  The young squire wearies in his beautiful country house, and his heart is fixed in the dingy chambers, which he cannot relinquish, and for which wealth cannot compensate him.  Even the poor clerks do not forget the Temple, and on Saturday afternoons they prowl about their old offices, and often give up lucrative employments.  They are drawn by the Temple as by a magnet, and must live again in the shadow of the old inns.  The laundresses’ daughters pass into wealthy domesticities, but sooner or later they return to drudge again in the Temple.

“How awfully jolly!—­I do enjoy an evening like this,” said Mike, when the guests had departed.

At that moment a faint footstep was heard on the landing; Hall rushed to see who was there, and returned with two women.  They explained that they wanted a drink.  Mike pressed them to make themselves at home, and Hall opened another bottle.

“How comfortable you bachelors are here by yourselves,” said one.

“I should think we are just; no fear of either of us being such fools as to break up our home by getting married,” replied Mike.

Sometimes Mike and Hall returned early from the restaurant, and wrote from eight to eleven; then went out for a cup of coffee and a prowl, beating up the Strand for women.  They stayed out smoking and talking at the corners till the streets were empty.  Once they sent a couple of harlots to rouse a learned old gentleman who lived in Brick Court, and with bated breath listened from the floor beneath to the dialogue above.

But to continue this life, which he enjoyed so intensely that he had even lost his desire to gamble, Mike was forced to borrow.  Knowing how such things are bruited about, Mike chose to go to a woman rather than to any of his men friends.  Mrs. Byril lent him twenty pounds, wherefore he thought it necessary to lecture Hall for one whole evening on the immorality of ever accepting money from women; and he remained for weeks in idleness, smoking and drinking in restaurants and bar rooms, deaf to Frank’s many pleadings for “copy.”  At last he roused a little, and feeling he could do nothing in London, proposed to come and stay with Frank in his cottage at Marlow, and there write the letters.