“You are fit for so much that is better.”

“I never can be anything like Austin.”

“But I think you can do more.”

“Well, I thank you for thinking it, Lady Judith.  Something I will do.  A man must deserve to live, as you say.

“Sauces,” Adrian was heard to articulate distinctly in the rear, “Sauces are the top tree of this science.  A woman who has mastered sauces sits on the apex of civilization.”

Briareus reddened duskily seaward.  The West was all a burning rose.

“How can men see such sights as those, and live idle?” Richard resumed.  “I feel ashamed of asking my men to work for me.—­Or I feel so now.”

“Not when you’re racing the Begum, I think.  There’s no necessity for you to turn democrat like Austin.  Do you write now?”

“No.  What is writing like mine?  It doesn’t deceive me.  I know it’s only the excuse I’m making to myself for remaining idle.  I haven’t written a line since—­lately.”

“Because you are so happy.”

“No, not because of that.  Of course I’m very happy...”  He did not finish.

Vague, shapeless ambition had replaced love in yonder skies.  No Scientific Humanist was by to study the natural development, and guide him.  This lady would hardly be deemed a very proper guide to the undirected energies of the youth, yet they had established relations of that nature.  She was five years older than he, and a woman, which may explain her serene presumption.

The cloud-giants had broken up:  a brawny shoulder smouldered over the sea.

“We’ll work together in town, at all events,” said Richard,

“Why can’t we go about together at night and find out people who want help?”

Lady Judith smiled, and only corrected his nonsense by saying, “I think we mustn’t be too romantic.  You will become a knight-errant, I suppose.  You have the characteristics of one.”

“Especially at breakfast,” Adrian’s unnecessarily emphatic gastronomical lessons to the young wife here came in.

“You must be our champion,” continued Lady Judith:  “the rescuer and succourer of distressed dames and damsels.  We want one badly.”

“You do,” said Richard, earnestly:  “from what I hear:  from what I know!” His thoughts flew off with him as knight-errant hailed shrilly at exceeding critical moment by distressed dames and damsels.  Images of airy towers hung around.  His fancy performed miraculous feats.  The towers crumbled.  The stars grew larger, seemed to throb with lustre.  His fancy crumbled with the towers of the air, his heart gave a leap, he turned to Lucy.

“My darling! what have you been doing?” And as if to compensate her for his little knight-errant infidelity, he pressed very tenderly to her.

“We have been engaged in a charming conversation on domestic cookery,” interposed Adrian.

“Cookery! such an evening as this?” His face was a handsome likeness of Hippias at the presentation of bridecake.