Presently Salwey expressed a hope that "there was some tea left for him? Being as you know," turning to his aunt, "a thoroughly domesticated character." "And pray, how did you leave England?" he inquired, now addressing himself directly to Verona. "I left it with some regret," she answered, with a smile. "It was August, you know." "Ah, August is my favourite month," he remarked, as he carefully selected a lump of sugar. "Yes, you impostor!" said his aunt. "You would like Miss Chandos to suppose that you are thinking of gorgeous sunsets, and harvest homes, and early autumn tints. My dear, the truth is, he is thinking of the shooting." "Well, I have not been able to do anything but _think_ of it for some years. Pray, who is the owner of this pretty thing?" he asked, as he stooped to pick up a little gold pencil-case. Verona held out her hand. "Yes, is it not pretty? I got it at the Army and Navy Stores." "Oh, the Stores! They are painfully associated in my mind with wedding presents--I have put in some bad quarters-of-an-hour there." "Yes, it's a ready-money place," suggested his aunt with a sly smile. "Oh, that was not it--thanks awfully for the insinuation--it was the worry of thinking, and making up my mind." "Why give anything?" "What can I do, when fellows I know will get married?" "Console yourself with the expectation of the crop _you_ may reap some day." "That depends! If I were to marry an heiress--I daresay I'd have a good harvest, on the principle of 'give an apple where there is an orchard'--you see," glancing at Verona, "that I can quote proverbs, as well as Mrs. Lepell." "But she is not a cynic like you, Brian." "Come, don't crush me in public, Aunt Liz. I hear"--turning to Verona--"that you have brought out no end of new books----" "Yes, I have a good many; can I lend you some?" "If you lend him a book, Verona, you will be sorry," interposed his aunt. "Now--she is impeaching my honesty, you see! Any cheap paper-backed edition--not turning solely on murder and robbery--would be gratefully appreciated." "I daresay I can supply your requirements." "The fact is," said Salwey, taking off his hat and throwing it on the grass, "I cannot stand anything that demands sternly concentrated attention. I don't want to hear of the 'over man,' nor even the 'sub-conscious brain'; on the other hand, I find the reading of 'shockers' requires an amount of physical courage, in which I am deficient--and--for love stories--I have--to borrow the American terms, 'no use.'" "So, you see, he will not be easy to suit!" supplemented Mrs. Lepell. "Oh, yes," he protested. "He is merely a simple, unsophisticated police wallah." "Not so _very_ simple, Brian. And you _have_ some use for love stories. Do you recollect how you borrowed and gobbled up 'A Princess of Thule,' and sent it back horribly disfigured and reeking of tobacco?" "I offered to replace it----" "To keep it--as I understood----"