"And not being Mr. Gladstone," said Sir Joseph, "I do not propose to dispossess the Brahmins without compensation. I am merely desirous that the Brahmins should be bought out by the Indian Government at a cost of a hundred and fifty or two hundred thousand. If this were done the number of pilgrims to this holy shrine would be doubled, and the best results would follow." "Oh, Mrs. Jellaby, where art thou?" thought Mike, and he boldly took advantage of the elaborate preparations that were being made for Sir Joseph to write his name on a fan, to move round the table and take a seat by Lily. But Frank's patience was exhausted, and he rose to leave. "People wonder at the genius of Shakespeare! I must say the stupidity of the ordinary man surprises me far more," said Mike. "I'm a poor man to-day," said Frank, "but I would give L25 to have had Dickens with us--fancy walking up Piccadilly with him afterwards! "Now I must go," he said. "Lizzie is waiting for me. I'll see you to-morrow," he cried, and drove away. "Just fancy having to look after her, having to attend to her wants, having to leave a friend and return home to dine with her in a small room! How devilish pleasant it is to be free!--to say, 'Where shall I dine?' and to be able to answer, 'Anywhere.' But it is too early to dine, and too late to play whist. Damn it! I don't know what to do with myself." Mike watched the elegantly-dressed men who passed hurriedly to their clubs, or drove west to dinner parties. Red clouds and dark clouds collected and rolled overhead, and in a chill wintry breeze the leaves of the tall trees shivered, fell, and were blown along the pavement with sharp harsh sound. London shrouded like a widow in long crape. "What is there to do? Five o'clock! After that lunch I cannot dine before eight--three hours! Whom shall I go and see?" A vision of women passed through his mind, but he turned from them all, and he said-- "I will go and see her."