But his mind was now trained direct on London, his earliest ambition. He had made his way with surprising quickness in the provinces, and still he was not happy.
"Who is happy?" asked his friend. "Call no man happy until he is dead!—Solon was at his wisest there."
"Happiness is worth pursuing, all the same," Henry returned, lamely enough, since he allowed the pagan fallacy to pass unquestioned. "I shan't be happy till I try my luck in London; and if not then—well, we'll see."
Truly, his mind was seriously unsettled by the spell of this man's strange personality.
Henry's eyes were turned to London, but he was soon to find that there was one person who did not relish the prospect, for reasons of her own.
CHAPTER XVII
THE WAY OF A WOMAN
"What makes you think of London, when you're doing so well in Laysford?" Flo Winton asked her sweetheart, strolling one Sunday by the banks of the Lays.