"I don't mind a fellow being well dressed," retorted Hench with emphasis, "but I do object to over-dressing." Spruce shrugged his shoulders. "You never did care to look decent." "I'm decent enough; confound your impudence!" "What with that shaggy beard and shabby clothes, and----" "There! There! Keep off the grass, Spruce. My clothes are well enough, although I do admit my beard is a trifle out of place. But when I returned from South America six months ago I never bothered to shave. Too much trouble." "Well, if I were a good-looking chap such as you are, I would pay more attention to my appearance. Coming out for a walk?" "No. Not with you in that get-up!" Spruce laughed. "Rum sort of chap you are to object to a fellow dressing decently. However, have it your own way. I'll see you this afternoon." Hench nodded absently and filled his pipe, while Spruce departed to delight the jeering inhabitants of Bethnal Green. And they did jeer, in what Spruce considered their coarse, common, vulgar way, but did not manage to upset him in the least. He was much too conceited to think that he could possibly be wrong in his selection of clothes. And it must be confessed that, as the day was hot even for July, he looked wonderfully cool and comfortable in his white garb. The men jeered, but for the most part the women admired him, and so long as he gained admiration from the fair sex Spruce was wholly content. So he screwed in his eye-glass and strutted and smiled, and made a progress through the main streets of Bethnal Green with a heroism worthy of a better cause. And it was heroism in a way to venture amongst the great unwashed in such fantastic clothes, although in Spruce it took the form of absolute vanity, and a certainty that he was "a thing of beauty and a joy for ever." As the day was warm and sunny the Nut did not return to luncheon, but enjoyed that meal in a City restaurant. He did not risk travelling beyond Fleet Street, lest he should stumble against some former friend who certainly would not be amiably disposed. Like the Peri, Spruce stood at the Gates of Paradise, but did not dare to venture in, so after a long look up the Strand, which was closed to him, he returned gloomily to Bethnal Green. But by the time he reached The Home of the Muses, he felt much better, as his nature was too shallow for him to be impressed strongly by any emotion--sorrowful or joyful. It was late in the afternoon when he entered the dingy drawing-room, and here he found Hench and Madame Alpenny enjoying the regulation tea. Zara, it appeared, was lying down to refresh herself for the evening's performance, and Bracken was attending a rehearsal. As for Mrs. Tesk, her mind was engaged with the approaching dinner, and she was consulting the cook in the kitchen.