“Hate ’em!  Not worth while anyway.”

“Travel.”

“Done all I want for a bit, but I keep that in reserve.

“Hunt.”

“Bad leg, but I do a bit at it.”

“Society.”

“Sooner go on the County Council.”

“City.”

“Too much money already.”

“Write a book.”  “No one would read it.”

“Start a magazine.”

“Too hard work.”

Mr. Hennibul sighed.

“You’re rather a difficult case,” he admitted.  “You’d better come round to the club and play bridge.”

“I never played whist—­and I’m bad-tempered.”

“Bit of everything then.”

Lord Arranmore smiled.

“That’s what it’ll end in, I suppose.”

“Pleasant times we had down at Enton,” Mr. Hennibul remarked.  “How’s the nice young lawyer—­Brooks his name was, I think?”

“All right, I believe.”

“And the ladies?

“I believe that they are quite well.  They were in Scotland last time I heard of them.”

Mr. Hennibul found conversation difficult.

“I saw that you were in Paris the other week,” he remarked.

“I went over to see Bernhardt’s new play,” Arranmore continued.

“Good?”

“It disappointed me.  Very likely though the fault was with myself.”

Mr. Hennibul looked across at his host shrewdly.

“What did you see me for?” he asked, suddenly.  “You’re bored to death trying to keep up a conversation.”

Lord Arranmore laughed.

“Upon my word, I don’t know, Hennibul,” he answered.  “For the same old reason, I suppose.  One must see some one, do something.  I thought that you might amuse me.”

“And I’ve failed,” Hennibul declared, smiling.  “Come to supper at the Savoy to-night.  The two new American girls from the Lyric and St. John Lyttleton are to be there.  Moderately respectable, I believe, but a bit noisy perhaps.”

Arranmore shook his head.

“You’re a good fellow, Hennibul,” he said, “but I’m too old for that sort of thing.”

Hennibul rose to his feet.

“Well,” he said, “I’ve kept the best piece of advice till last because I want you to think of it.  Marry!”

Lord Arranmore did not smile.  He did not immediately reply.

“You are a bachelor!” he remarked.

“I am a man of a different disposition,” Hennibul answered.  “I find pleasure in everything—­everything amuses me.  My work is fascinating, my playtime is never big enough.  I really don’t know where a wife would come in.  However, if ever I did get a bit hipped, find myself in your position, for instance, I can promise you that I’d take my own medicine.  I’ve thought of it more than once lately.”

“Perhaps by that time,” Lord Arranmore said, “the woman whom you wanted to marry wouldn’t have you.”

Hennibul looked serious for a moment.  A new idea had occurred to him.