Charles felt very angry with his bachelor friends, and when Clare joined him at the end of an alley was in no mood to be pleasant company. "Sure, Charles," the latter remonstrated, "you're the last man to tie yourself to the skirts of a goddess." "There's a medium between an angel and a woman of the town," said Charles sententiously. "But the woman was once an angel to somebody, and 'foregad! I believe you do your charmer an injury to make her such a paragon of air. I swear those eyes can flash with more than saintly ecstasy." "Z----ds! Tony, you are bent on a quarrel. I tell you the child's name shall not be a toast for my profligate friends." "You are not better than any of them." "But at least I can reverence purity." "Aye, and so can Blewforth." "D---- e!" swore Charles, "'tis a pity he don't exercise his talent more openly." The argument would doubtless have continued, if the sound of voices approaching had not made the two young men pause involuntarily. Two people were passing down the adjoining alley, and it was impossible not to overhear some of the conversation, which was sufficiently ridiculous. A feminine voice declared that soldiers were romantick, and a voice of opposite sex replied that as an attribute of class, it was an undeniable quality, but not for that reason universally applicable to individual members of that class. "But a scarlet coat is so dazzling," argued Treble. "Madam," said Bass, "I cannot claim that my profession is romantick. The Law, Madam, has no time for romance except perhaps in the examination of an unwilling witness, but what my profession lacks, my name possesses. Moon, madam, I venture to affirm, is a singularly romantick name." "It is," murmured the widow, for, of course, it was she. "The moon is the method of illumination adopted by every poet of distinction." "How true that is," she sighed. "I might add that so far as dazzling goes my name is as capable of extreme refraction as the red coat of a soldier. Moreover, madam, the latter is very antipathetick to the complexion of a woman of quality." "But the coat need not be worn, Mr. Moon. It could exist in a bottom drawer, I should feel it was there, and I could sometimes brush it even." "Good heavens! ma'am, has not the Law an equal fascination? Do you know that my house is full of legal cases?" "How untidy!" said the widow reprovingly. "Arguments _Pro_ and _Contra_, trials!" "But I dislike arguments, they put my hair out of curl and we have so many trials to bear already." "They need never be used, but they can exist, madam, they can exist in calf on a bottom shelf, and they could be dusted sometimes," declared the Justice. Then in softer accents he began to plead: "Think, my dear Mrs. Courteen, of Mrs. Moon. Mrs. Moon! I often murmur that short sentence over to myself." "Do you, Mr. Moon? When?" said the widow, who seemed touched by his devotion.