On a Sunday afternoon at the end of October, Godwin once more climbed the familiar stairs at Staple Inn, and was welcomed by his friend Earwaker.  The visit was by appointment.  Earwaker knew all about the legacy; that it was accepted; and that Peak had only a few days to spend in London, on his way to the Continent.

‘You are regenerated,’ was his remark as Godwin entered.

’Do I look it?  Just what I feel.  I have shaken off a good (or a bad) ten years.’

The speaker’s face, at all events in this moment, was no longer that of a man at hungry issue with the world.  He spoke cheerily.

’It isn’t often that fortune does a man such a kind turn.  One often hears it said:  If only I could begin life again with all the experience I have gained!  That is what I can do.  I can break utterly with the past, and I have learnt how to live in the future.’

‘Break utterly with the past?’

‘In the practical sense.  And even morally to a great extent.’

Earwaker pushed a box of cigars across the table.  Godwin accepted the offer, and began to smoke.  During these moments of silence, the man of letters had been turning over a weekly paper, as if in search of some paragraph; a smile announced his discovery.

’Here is something that will interest you—­possibly you have seen it.’

He began to read aloud: 

’"On the 23rd inst. was celebrated at St. Bragg’s, Torquay, the marriage of the Rev. Bruno Leathwaite Chilvers, late Rector of St Margaret’s, Exeter, and the Hon. Bertha Harriet Cecilia Jute, eldest daughter of the late Baron Jute.  The ceremony was conducted by the Hon. and Rev. J. C. Jute, uncle of the bride, assisted by the Rev. F. Miller, the Very Rev. Dean Pinnock, the Rev. H. S. Crook, and the Rev. William Tomkinson.  The bride was given away by Lord Jute.  Mr Horatio Dukinfield was best man.  The bridal dress was of white brocade, draped with Brussels lace, the corsage being trimmed with lace and adorned with orange blossoms.  The tulle veil, fastened with three diamond stars, the gifts of”——­Well, shall I go on?’

‘The triumph of Chilvers!’ murmured Godwin.  ’I wonder whether the Hon. Bertha is past her fortieth year?’

’A blooming beauty, I dare say.  But Lord! how many people it takes to marry a man like Chilvers!  How sacred the union must be!—­Pray take a paragraph more:  “The four bridesmaids—­Miss—­etc., etc. —­wore cream crepon dresses trimmed with turquoise blue velvet, and hats to match.  The bridegroom’s presents to them were diamond and ruby brooches."’

’Chilvers in excelsis!—­So he is no longer at Exeter; has no living, it seems.  What does he aim at next, I wonder?’

Earwaker cast meaning glances at his friend.

‘I understand you,’ said Godwin, at length.  ’You mean that this merely illustrates my own ambition.  Well, you are right, I confess my shame—­and there’s an end of it.’