"I’ve done everything you told me," he said, as he sat down and eyed her wistfully. "I’ve gone into poetry like a bull at a hedge, Lady Penelope. I begin to see what it means. Old Austin (poor old josser) has taken the deuce’s own pains over me. He’s read ’The Lady of the Garden’ to me seventeen times. He wrote it ten years ago. He says he wonders how he did it, and so do I. I’ve been trying to write poetry to you, do you know. That showed me there must be some special gift in it, for I never did anything worth the horrid trouble. And I’ve been worrying the War Office like a bulldog. They say they’ll think of me, and haven’t gone any further, and talking of bulldogs, Bob’s bulldog bit Austin de Vere, and he swore like a man. I was surprised. But if I were you, I’d tell Bob to stop sending him more dogs. He’s very kind to them, but they worry him. Bob’s prices are very high, too. How is Bob? Oh, by the way, I’m living on ten pounds a week. Need I reckon tailor’s bills in, do you think? Oh, yes, this bulge is the Golden Treasury. I take it out and read a lyric between meals. The chaps at the Rag chaff me like blazes, but I don’t mind so long as I improve. I want to improve so as to be worthy of your intellect, Lady Penelope." "The poor dear," said Pen, when he was gone, "I think I could almost love him!" As luck would have it, Bob and Austin de Vere came in almost at the same minute. For now Titania couldn’t keep Bob away. For the matter of that, she did not want to. Bob was to be Penelope’s safeguard. He was much better than Chloe Cadwallader, said Titania. However, De Vere came in first. He held Penelope’s hand no longer than a poet should, as poets naturally hold girls’ hands rather longer than other people. "You are looking really well, Mr. de Vere," said Penelope, when she was free. "I am well," said the poet, "exceedingly well in a way. My dear lady of the beautiful garden, I owe all that to you. At first I was afraid of Captain Goby. I told Lord Bradstock so the other day. I’m afraid I left him under a false impression as to my feelings to Goby, by the way. I’m quite proud of Goby. He says I am really a powerful man, and he made me row till I was worn out. And then he insisted that I should use Sandow’s exerciser. I own I did it with reluctance. I pointed out to Goby that I did not wish to look like Mr. Sandow. Goby always stopped by the posters in which Mr. Sandow is lifting ten tons or so, and pointed out certain muscles to me as ideals. I was recalcitrant, for, although I admire Mr. Sandow immensely, I think muscle can be overdone. However, I used the machine, which is ingenious and elastic, and only dangerous if the hook comes out of the wall, and I’ve found I rather like it. I should miss it now. I think it imparts a certain vigour to verse, if not overdone. Oh—" For in came Bob. He rushed at Pen and kissed her hair, and then bounced at the poet.