"It's not a question of justice, it's a question of common-sense," said Miss Lambert. "Exactly," said Verneede, "common-sense; if this Mr--er--the uncle of my friend Leavesley, is endowed with common-sense and a sense of justice--yes, justice and a feeling for beauty----" "Oh, do stop!" said Leavesley, the prosaic vision of James Hancock rising before him. "What on earth do lawyers know of justice or beauty or----" "If they don't," replied Fanny, "it's quite time they were taught." "Quite," concurred Verneede. When certain chemicals are brought into juxtaposition certain results result. So it is with brains. Mr Leavesley for a moment sat contemplating the crazy plan propounded by Mr Verneede. Then he broke into a laugh. His imagination pictured the interview between Miss Lambert and his uncle. "Well, go ahead," he said. "Perhaps you're right; I don't know much about the law, but, anyhow, it's not a hanging matter. When are you going?" "Now," said Miss Lambert, putting on her gloves. Leavesley looked at his watch. "You'll scarcely catch him at the office unless you take a cab." "I'll take a cab. Will you come with me?" "Yes, rather!" "Only as far as the door," said Miss Lambert. "It's like going to the dentist; I always take father with me to the dentist's as far as the door, for fear I'd run away. Once I'm in I don't care a bit; it's the going in is the dreadful part." "I know," said Leavesley, reaching for his hat. "It's like facing the music, the overture is the worst part." "I don't think you'd call it music," said Miss Lambert, "if you heard me at the dentist's when he's working that drill thing--ugh! Come." They left the studio. The prospect of having Miss Lambert all alone to himself in a cab made the heart of Mr Leavesley palpitate, mixed emotions filled his soul. Blue funk was the basis of these emotions. He was going to propose, so he told himself, immediately, the instant they were in the cab and the horse had started. That was all very well as a statement made to himself: it did not conceal the fact that Miss Lambert was a terribly difficult girl to propose to. One of those jolly girls who treat one as a brother are generally the most difficult to deal with when one approaches them as a lover. But Miss Lambert, besides the fact of her jollity and her treatment of Mr Leavesley as a brother, had a personality all her own. She seemed to him a combination of the practical and the unpractical in about equal proportions, one could never tell how she would take things. They walked down the King's Road looking for a cab, Miss Lambert and Verneede engaged in vivacious conversation, Leavesley silent, engaged in troubled attempts to think. I give a few links from the chain of his thoughts just as a specimen.