It is unnecessary to pursue the diary further; for his lordship—forgetful apparently of the borne of bed, to which he had originally destined himself—launches into a variety of speculations as to the Nature of Love. Among other questions, he puts to himself the following concerning Love: (1) Is it Inevitable? (2) Is it Agreeable? (3) Is it Universal? (4) Is it Wise? (5) Is it Remunerative? (6) Is it Momentary? (7) Is it Sempiternal? (8) Is it Voluntary? (9) Is it Conditioned? (10) Is it Remediable? (11) Is it Religious? (There's a note here—"Consult Cromlech")—(12) May it be expected to survive the Advance of Civilization? (13) Why does it exist at all? (14) Is it Ridiculous?
It is not to be inferred that Lord Lynborough answers these questions. He is, like a wise man, content to propound them. If, however, he had answered them, it might have been worth while to transcribe the diary.
"Can we as gentlemen—?"—Roger had put the question. It waited unanswered till Lynborough had taken his book and returned to record its utterance—together with the speculations to which that utterance gave rise. Stabb weighed it carefully, rubbing his bald head, according to the habit which his friend had animadverted upon.
"If such a glorious creature—" cried Roger.
"If a thoroughly intelligent and most sympathetic woman—" said Stabb.
"Thinks that she has a right, why, she probably has one!"
"At any rate her view is entitled to respect—to a courteous hearing."
"Lynborough does appear to have been a shade—er——"
"Ambrose is a spoiled child, bless him! She took a wonderful interest in my brasses. I don't know what brought her to the church."
"She waited herself to let me through that beastly gate again!"