from the maladies they develop in idleness, is the condition of wealthy people:—­creatures of prey? horrible thought! yet allied to his Idea, it seemed.  Yes, but these good caged beasts here set them an example, in not troubling relatives and friends when they come to the gasp!  Mrs. Burman’s invitation loomed as monstrous—­a final act of her cruelty.  His skin pricked with dews.  He thought of Nataly beside him, jumping the ditch with him, as a relief—­if she insisted on doing it.  He hoped she would not, for the sake of her composure.

It was a ditch void of bottom.  But it was a mere matter of an hour, less.  The state of health of the invalid could bear only a few minutes.  In any case, we are sure that the hour will pass.  Our own arrive?  Certainly.

‘Capital place for children,’ he exclaimed.  And here startlingly before him in the clusters of boys and girls, was the difference between young ones and their elders feeling quite as young:  the careless youngsters have not to go and sit in the room with a virulent old woman, and express penitence and what not, and hear words of pardon, after their holiday scamper and stare at the caged beasts.

Attention to the children precipitated him upon acquaintances, hitherto cleverly shunned.  He nodded them off, after the brightest of greetings.

Such anodyne as he could squeeze from the incarcerated wild creatures, was exhausted.  He fell to work at Nataly’s ’aristocracy of the contempt of luxury’; signifying, that we the wealthy will not exist to pamper flesh, but we live for the promotion of brotherhood:—­ay, and that our England must make some great moral stand, if she is not to fall to the rear and down.  Unuttered, it caught the skirts of the Idea:  it evaporated when spoken.  Still, this theme was almost an exorcism of Mrs. Burman.  He consulted his watch.  ‘Thirteen minutes to four.  I must be punctual,’ he said.  Nataly stepped faster.

Seated in the carriage, he told her he had never felt the horror of that place before.  ’Put me down at the corner of the terrace, dear:  I won’t drive to the door.’

‘I come with you, Victor,’ she replied.

After entreaties and reasons intermixed, to melt her resolve, he saw she was firm:  and he asked himself, whether he might not be constitutionally better adapted to persuade than to dissuade.  The question thumped.  Having that house of drugs in view, he breathed more freely for the prospect of feeling his Nataly near him beneath the roof.

‘You really insist, dear love?’ he appealed to her:  and her answer:  ’It must be,’ left no doubt:  though he chose to say:  ’Not because of standing by me?’ And she said:  ‘For my peace, Victor.’  They stepped to the pavement.  The carriage was dismissed.

Seventeen houses of the terrace fronting the park led to the funereal one:  and the bell was tolled in the breast of each of the couple advancing with an air of calmness to the inevitable black door.