’I suppose that’s the view you take of everything?  You rate everything at market price.’

’Marketable things, of course.  But you know me well enough to understand that I’m not always thinking of the shop.  Wait till I’ve made money.—­Now then, clumsy!’

A man, leaning over the parapet by Nancy’s side, had pushed against her.  Thus addressed he glared at the speaker, but encountered a bellicose look which kept him quiet.

‘I shall live in a big way,’ Crewe continued, as they walked on towards Fish Street Hill.  ’Not for the swagger of it; I don’t care about that, but because I’ve a taste for luxury.  I shall have a country house, and keep good horses.  And I should like to have a little farm of my own, a model farm; make my own butter and cheese, and know that I ate the real thing.  I shall buy pictures.  Haven’t I told you I like pictures?  Oh yes.  I shall go round among the artists, and encourage talent that hasn’t made itself known.’

‘Can you recognise it?’ asked Nancy.

’Well, I shall learn to.  And I shall have my wife’s portrait painted by some first-rate chap, never mind what it costs, and hung in the Academy.  That’s a great idea of mine—­to see my wife’s portrait in the Academy.’

His companion laughed.

‘Take care, then, that your wife is ornamental.’

‘I’ll take precious good care of that!’ Crewe exclaimed merrily.  ’Do you suppose I should dream of marrying a woman who wasn’t good-looking?’

‘Don’t shout, please.  People can hear you.’

‘I beg your pardon.’  His voice sank to humility.  ’That’s a bad habit of mine.  But I was going to say—­I went to the Academy this year just to look at the portraits of men’s wives.  There was nothing particular in that line.  Not a woman I should have felt particularly proud of.  Tastes differ, of course.  Mine has altered a good deal in the last ten years.  A man can’t trust himself about women till he’s thirty or near it.’

‘Talk of something else,’ Nancy commanded.

’Certainly.  There’s the sun coming out.  You see, I was afraid it would keep on raining, and you would have an excuse for staying at home.’

‘I needed no excuse,’ said Nancy.  ’If I hadn’t wished to come, you may be sure I should have said so.’

Crewe flashed a look at her.

’Ah, that’s how I like to hear you speak!  That does one good.  Well, here we are.  People used to be fond of going up, they say, just to pitch themselves down.  A good deal of needless trouble, it seems to me.  Perhaps they gave themselves the off-chance of changing their minds before they got to the top.’

‘Or wanted to see if life looked any better from up there,’ suggested Nancy.

’Or hoped somebody would catch them by the coat-tails, and settle a pension on them out of pity.’