The boys are Frank and Lionel. Frank is the only one that is married, and he lives in a tiny house in Barton Street with his wife and his twins. He is at present a journalist, but all kinds of books are to come from him. Lionel is at the Bar, but not yet has he pleaded a cause, largely, I fancy, on account of the British solicitor's unwillingness to believe in the zeal or capacity of a Middlesex fast scorer (for Lionel plays for that county), and partly because his grandmother's generosity has made it so absurdly possible for Lionel to neglect his duties. Frank I like immensely, for he is quiet and kind and humorous, but Lionel is more caustic and impatient than one wants, and he is also a shade too voluble upon games. He may be said to live for them; and, as with most men who do so, his yawns come with the dusk. Cricket I too adore, and we have this passion in common; but Lionel is not interested in the past, and that, of course, is where all my cricket lies. He is, however, going to take me to see him play, and I dare say I shall soon learn enough about the new men not to bore him. Into golf I cannot follow him; partly because I have never played, and partly because I like socialism in games, and the idea of employing a caddie will always be unpleasant to me. Lionel naturally cannot accept this point of view, and so few other golfers that I know are able to do so that I have come to the conclusion that the golfing temperament is essentially aristocratic--a feudal inheritance--the property exclusively of those who can see nothing absurd or even degrading in the spectacle of powerful frivolous men being followed by boys of burden. With my stepsister I was of course quickly at home; but with her husband, Alderley Wynne, K.C., I shall never really be comfortable. Beside his clear, comprehensive, legal, synthetic mind, accustomed to see the end at the same moment that it sees the beginning, generalising swiftly and usually accurately, my intellectual edges appear so very ragged and indistinct, and my hesitancies with regard to right and wrong so cowardly and anarchical. Moreover, he does not understand how any man can voluntarily expatriate himself except for gain, and I have come back so little better off than I left. Alderley likes a man to make either money or reputation; he is impatient of all who stand still. Stuff must in due course be succeeded by silk in life as well as at the Bar, he holds. I figure as a stationary man, which is only one degree less reprehensible than a retrograde man. None the less, since he is devoted to his wife in a very beautiful, attentive way, and she is fond of me, and I stand for her relation (although I am, of course, no kin to her really), even although his critical judgment tells him that I have failed, his heart and house are open to me.