She was happily occupied with her purchases of furniture, Fredi with her singing lessons, and he with his business; a grasp of many ribands, reining-in or letting loose; always enjoyable in the act.  Recently only had he known when at home, a relaxation, a positive pleasure in looking forward to the hours of the City office.  This was odd, but so it was; and looking homeward from the City, he had a sense of disappointment when it was not Concert evening.  The Cormyns, the Yatts, and Priscilla Graves, and Pempton, foolish fellow, and that bothering Barmby, and Peridon and Catkin, were the lineing of his nest.  Well, and so they had been before Lakelands rose.  What had induced! . . . he suddenly felt foreign to himself.  The shrouded figure of his lost Idea on London Bridge went by.

A peep into the folds of the shroud was granted him:—­Is it a truth, that if we are great owners of money, we are so swollen with a force not native to us, as to be precipitated into acts the downright contrary of our tastes?

He inquired it of his tastes, which have the bad habit of unmeasured phrasing when they are displeased, and so they yield no rational answer.  Still he gave heed to violent extraneous harpings against money.  Epigrams of Colney’s; abuse of it and the owners of it by Socialist orators reported in some newspaper corner; had him by the ears.

They ceased in the presence of Lady Grace Halley, who entered his office to tell him she was leaving town for Whinfold, her husband’s family-seat, where the dear man lay in evil case.  She signified her resignation to the decrees from above, saying generously: 

‘You look troubled, my friend.  Any bad City news?’

‘I look troubled?’ Victor said laughing, and bethought him of what the trouble might be.  ’City news would not cause the look.  Ah, yes;—­I was talking in the street to a friend of mine on horseback the other day, and he kept noticing his horse’s queer starts.  We spied half a dozen children in the gutter, at the tail of the horse, one of them plucking at a hair.  “Please, sir, may I have a hair out of your horse’s tail?” said the mite.  We patted the poor horse that grew a tail for urchins to pluck at.  Men come to the fathers about their girls.  It’s my belief that mothers more easily say no.  If they learn the word as maids, you’ll say!  However, there’s no fear about my girl.  Fredi’s hard to snare.  And what brings you Cityward?’

’I want to know whether I shall do right in selling out of the Tiddler mine.’

‘You have multiplied your investment by ten.’

‘If it had been thousands!’

’Clearly, you sell; always jump out of a mounted mine, unless you’re at the bottom of it.’

’There are City-articles against the mine this morning—­or I should have been on my way to Whinfold at this moment.  The shares are lower.’

’The merry boys are at work to bring your balloon to the ground, that you may quit it for them to ascend.  Tiddler has enemies, like the best of mines:  or they may be named lovers, if you like.  And mines that have gone up, go down for a while before they rise again; it’s an affair of undulations; rocket mines are not so healthy.  The stories are false, for the time.  I had the latest from Dartrey Fenellan yesterday.  He’s here next month; some time in August.’