“There was the Holborn Casino and the Argyll for a little dance: the Judge and Jury, Evans’s, and the Coalhole for supper and a sing-song: Caldwell’s to take a shop-girl for a quiet dance: Cremorne----” “My dear Fred, these are old stories. All these things have gone. The Holborn and the Argyll are restaurants, Cremorne is built over, Evans’s is dead and gone: the Judge and Jury business wouldn’t be tolerated now.” “What do the boys do now?” “How should I know? They amuse themselves somehow. But it’s no concern of mine, or of yours. You are no longer a boy, Fred.” “Hang it! What am I to do with myself in the evenings? I suppose I can go and look on if I can’t cut in any more?” “No; you mustn’t even look on. Leave the boys to themselves. Join a club and sit by yourself in the smoking-room all the evening. That’s the amusement for you.” “I suppose I can go to the theatre--if that’s all?” “Oh yes! You must put on your evening clothes and go to the stalls. We used to go to the pit, you know. There are music-halls and variety shows of sorts--you might go there if you like. But, you know, you’ve got a character to maintain. Think of your position.” “Hang my position, man! Get up and take me somewhere. Let us laugh and look on at something.” “My dear Fred, consider. I am a respectable barrister with a grown-up son. Could I be seen in such a place? The head of the firm of Barlow and Co., allow me to point out, would not improve his chances in the City if he were seen in certain places.” “Nobody knows me.” “Remember, my dear brother, that if you mean to get money out of the City you must be the serious and responsible capitalist in the evening as well as in the morning.” “Then we’ll go and have tobacco in the smoking-room. One is apt to forget, Chris, the responsibilities of success.” “Quite so.” Christopher smiled. “Quite so. Well put. The responsibilities of success. I will introduce the phrase in your speech. The responsibilities of success.” CHAPTER VI THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL Mrs. Christopher Campaigne was at home. The rooms were filled with people--chiefly young people, friends of her son and daughter. Most of them were endowed with those literary and artistic leanings which made them severe critics, even if they had not yet produced immortal works of their own. The chief attraction of the evening, however, was the newly-returned Australian, said to be a millionaire, who took up a large space in the room, being tall and broad; he also took up a large space in the conversation: he talked loud and laughed loud. He presented successfully the appearance he desired, namely, that of a highly prosperous gentleman, accustomed to the deference due to millions. Leonard came late. “I am glad to see you here,” said his hostess. “Frederick, you can hardly remember your other nephew, son of Algernon.”