"I suppose we have, Charles," he said; "why don't you cut it? I don't mind it; it is a matter of indifference to me. But you! you can cut it. You shall go down to-morrow morning, and I'll stay." "Thanks," said the constant friend. "I'm in the same boat, Ley, and I'll pull while you do. When you are tired of this foolery, we'll come to shore and be sensible human beings again. I shan't leave the boat till you do." "You'll wait till it goes down?" "Yes, I suppose I shall," was the quiet response, "if down it must go." Leycester walked on in silence for a minute. "What a mockery it all is!" he said, with a half smile. "Yes," assented Lord Charles, slowly; "some people would call it by a stronger name, I suppose. I don't see the use of it. The use--why it's the very ruination. Ley, you are killing yourself." "And you." "No," said Lord Charles, coolly, "I'm all right--I've got nothing on my mind. I'm bored and used-up while it lasts, but when it's over I can turn in and get to sleep. You can't--or you don't." Leycester thrust his hands in his pockets in silence, he could not deny it. "I don't believe you sleep one night out of three," said Lord Charles. "You've got the mad fever, Ley. I wish it could be altered." Leycester walked on still more quickly. "You shall go down to-morrow, Charles," he said. "I don't think I'll come." "Why not?" Leycester stopped and put his hand on his arm, and looked at him with a feverish smile on his face. "Simply because I cannot--I cannot. I hate the sight of a green field. I hate the country. Heaven! go down there! Charlie, you know dogs can't bear the sight of water when they are queer. You've got a river down there, haven't you? Well, the sight of that river, the sound of that stream, would drive me mad! I cannot go, but you shall." Lord Charles shook his head. "Very well. Where now! Let us go home." Leycester stopped short. "Good-night," he said. "Go home. Don't be foolish, Charlie--go home." "And you!" Leycester put his hand on his arm slowly, and looked round. "Not home," he said--"not yet. I'm wakeful to-night." And he smiled grimly. "The thought of the meadow and the river has set me thinking. I'll go back to the 'Rookery.'" Lord Charles turned without a word, and they went back. The tables were still occupied, and the entrance of the two men was noticed and greeted with a word here and there. Lord Charles dropped on to a chair and called for some coffee--a great deal of coffee was drank at the "Rookery"--but Leycester wandered about from table to table. Presently he paused beside some men who were playing baccarat. They had been playing since midnight, and piles of notes, and gold, and I O U's told pretty plainly of the size of the stakes. Leycester stood leaning on the back of a chair, absently watching the play, but his thoughts were wandering back to the meadows of Wyndward, and he stood once more beside the weir stream, with the lovely face upon his breast.