“I care more for figure than face,” said Cradell.  “But Mrs Lupex has fine eyes—­very fine eyes.”

“And knows how to use them, too,” said Johnny.

“Why shouldn’t she?  And then she has lovely hair.”

“Only she never brushes it in the morning.”

“Do you know, I like that kind of deshabille,” said Cradell.  “Too much care always betrays itself.”

“But a woman should be tidy.”

“What a word to apply to such a creature as Mrs Lupex!  I call her a splendid woman.  And how well she was got up last night.  Do you know, I’ve an idea that Lupex treats her very badly.  She said a word or two to me yesterday that—­,” and then he paused.  There are some confidences which a man does not share even with his dearest friend.

“I rather fancy it’s quite the other way,” said Eames.

“How the other way?”

“That Lupex has quite as much as he likes of Mrs L. The sound of her voice sometimes makes me shake in my shoes, I know.”

“I like a woman with spirit,” said Cradell.

“Oh, so do I. But one may have too much of a good thing.  Amelia did tell me;—­only you won’t mention it.”

“Of course, I won’t.”

“She told me that Lupex sometimes was obliged to run away from her.  He goes down to the theatre, and remains there two or three days at a time.  Then she goes to fetch him, and there is no end of a row in the house.”

“The fact is, he drinks,” said Cradell.  “By George, I pity a woman whose husband drinks—­and such a woman as that, too!”

“Take care, old fellow, or you’ll find yourself in a scrape.”

“I know what I’m at.  Lord bless you, I’m not going to lose my head because I see a fine woman.”

“Or your heart either?”

“Oh, heart!  There’s nothing of that kind of thing about me.  I regard a woman as a picture or a statue.  I dare say I shall marry some day, because men do; but I’ve no idea of losing myself about a woman.”

“I’d lose myself ten times over for—­”

“L.  D.,” said Cradell.

“That I would.  And yet I know I shall never have her.  I’m a jolly, laughing sort of fellow; and yet, do you know, Caudle, when that girl marries, it will be all up with me.  It will, indeed.”

“Do you mean that you’ll cut your throat?”

“No; I shan’t do that.  I shan’t do anything of that sort; and yet it will be all up with me.”

“You are going down there in October;—­why don’t you ask her to have you?”

“With ninety pounds a year!” His grateful country had twice increased his salary at the rate of five pounds each year.  “With ninety pounds a year, and twenty allowed me by my mother!”

“She could wait, I suppose.  I should ask her, and no mistake.  If one is to love a girl, it’s no good one going on in that way!”

“It isn’t much good, certainly,” said Johnny Eames.  And then they reached the door of the Income-tax Office, and each went away to his own desk.