Dick and he dined at the best hotel and Lance listened sympathetically to the description of the bridge. He was not robust enough for the army, but he hinted that he envied Dick; and Dick felt flattered. He sometimes bantered Lance about his social gifts and ambitions, but he had never resented the favors his father had shown his cousin. Lance had been left an orphan at an early age and the elder Brandon--a man of means and standing--had brought him up with his son. They had been good friends and Dick was pleased when his father undertook to give Lance a fair start at the profession he chose. He imagined that now Lance was beginning to make his mark, his allowance had stopped, but this was not his business. Lance was a very good sort, although he was clever in ways that Dick was not and indeed rather despised. "What shall we do next?" Dick asked when they had lounged for a time in the smoking-room. Lance made a gesture of resignation as he stretched himself in a big chair. He was dressed with quiet taste, his face was handsome but rather colorless, and his movements were languid. "You're such an energetic beggar," he complained. "The only theater where they put on plays worth seeing is closed just now, but there's a new dancer at the nearest hall and we might look in. I hope my churchwarden patrons won't disapprove if they hear of it, because they talk about building an ornamental mission room." Dick laughed. "They wouldn't find fault with you. Somehow, nobody does." "There's some truth in that; the secret is that I know when to stop. One can enjoy life without making the pace too hot. People aren't really censorious, and even the narrow-minded sort allow you certain limits; in fact, I imagine they rather admire you if you can play with fire and not get singed. Women do, anyhow; and, in a sense, their judgment's logical. The thing that doesn't hurt you can't be injurious, and it shows moderation and self-control if you don't pass the danger line." "How do you know when you have come to the line?" "Well," smiled Lance, "experience helps; but I think it's an instinct. Of course, if you do show signs of damage, you're done for, because then the people who envied you throw the biggest stones." "Let's start," said Dick. "I'm not much of a philosopher. Building bridges and digging saps is good enough for me." "They're healthy occupations, so long as you don't get shot; but, considering everything, it's strange that they still monopolize your interest." Dick colored. He knew what his cousin meant. He had been attracted by a girl of whom his father approved and who was well-bred, pretty, and rich. Dick imagined that his father's views were agreeable to Helen's relatives and that she was not ignorant of this. Still, nothing had been actually arranged, and although he admired Helen, it would be time enough to think of marriage when he was a captain, for instance.