"Let them rub along as they can pro tem. I'll straighten it out for them directly I settle down to it."
Just now he could throw himself into the business only by fits and starts, but he assured everybody that it should soon secure his undivided care.
"I'll wake 'em up;" and he tapped his forehead and laughed. "There's a reservoir of enterprise here—the ideas simply bubbling over." Then he would bring out his jewelled cigarette-case, light a cigarette, and swagger off to keep some pleasant appointment.
He was candidly enjoying the softer side of his new position, and postponing its arduous duties. He both looked and felt very jolly. Except when anyone accidentally made him angry, he was always ready to laugh and joke.
He had a small run-about car, and was rapidly learning to drive it while a much bigger car was being built for him. He was renewing old acquaintances and picking up fresh friends. He showed a fine catholic taste for amusement, and handsomely supported the theatre, the music-hall, the race-course. In the good company with which he was now able to surround himself he dashed to and fro all over England, to see the winter sport between the flags. He dressed grandly, drank bravely, spent freely—in a word, he was hastily completing his education as a gentleman.
"Must have my fling, old girl"—He was nearly always jolly about it to his wife. "But don't you fear that I'm turning into an idler. Not much. This is my holiday. And no one can say I haven't earned a holiday. Ever since I was fourteen I've been putting my back into it like a good 'un."
He was especially genial when luck had been kind to him and he had won a few bets. Returning after a couple of fortunate days at Manchester or Wolverhampton, he jingled the sovereigns in his pockets and chattered gleefully.
"Rare fun up there—and little Dick came out on top. Cheer up, Jane. Give a chap a welcome. This doesn't cost one half what you might guess.... Besides, anyhow, I've got to do it—for a bit—not forever.... I'm young—don't forget that. Only one life to live—in this vale of tears."
He pleaded his youth, as if it must always prove a sufficient excuse for anything; but she never invited either excuses or apologies.
"Well, old girl, I'm leaving you to your own resources again—but, you understand, don't you? Boys will be boys;" and he laughed. "This isn't naughtiness—only what is called the levity of youth. Ta-ta—take care of yourself."