The poet shook his head sorrowfully.
"I don't know what Mrs. Chundle will say," he remarked.
And at the end of the drive we parted, with averted looks and scarce concealed distress, each taking a contemplative path to the hitherto calm of his bachelor shrine.
[II]
IN WHICH TWO RATS MEET A SUDDEN DEATH
"The country is just now at its freshest," said the poet, waving his hand towards the open window and the green lawn. "The world is waking again to its—er, spring holiday, Tommy, and you must be out in the air and the open fields, and share it while you may."
The poet beamed, a little apprehensively it is true, across the breakfast table at Tommy, who was mastering a large plate of eggs and bacon with courage and facility.
"It's jolly good of you to have me, you know," observed Tommy, pausing a moment to regard his host.