"We'll work together in town, at all events," said Richard,
"Why can't we go about together at night and find out people who want help?"
Lady Judith smiled, and only corrected his nonsense by saying, "I think we mustn't be too romantic. You will become a knight-errant, I suppose. You have the characteristics of one."
"Especially at breakfast," Adrian's unnecessarily emphatic gastronomical lessons to the young wife here came in.
"You must be our champion," continued Lady Judith: "the rescuer and succourer of distressed dames and damsels. We want one badly."
"You do," said Richard, earnestly: "from what I hear: from what I know!" His thoughts flew off with him as knight-errant hailed shrilly at exceeding critical moment by distressed dames and damsels. Images of airy towers hung around. His fancy performed miraculous feats. The towers crumbled. The stars grew larger, seemed to throb with lustre. His fancy crumbled with the towers of the air, his heart gave a leap, he turned to Lucy.
"My darling! what have you been doing?" And as if to compensate her for his little knight-errant infidelity, he pressed very tenderly to her.
"We have been engaged in a charming conversation on domestic cookery," interposed Adrian.
"Cookery! such an evening as this?" His face was a handsome likeness of
Hippias at the presentation of bridecake.
"Dearest! you know it's very useful," Lucy mirthfully pleaded.