The young man’s thoughts were of the goddess. As he lay in his pillows, with his dazed brain reverting for the thousand and first time to that rare and strange glamour and all that it implied, he fell into a troubled sleep that was fraught with dreams. XXVII On the following day, during the luncheon hour, William Jordan, Junior, was complimented upon his bearing at the party. “I don’t mind telling you, Luney,” said Mr. Dodson, “that you were the best-looking chap there. Young Davis thinks he was, but if he went to the levée at Buckingham Palace he would think the same. No, Luney, you were easily first; and if you could only get that mark off your cheek you might marry money. And your behaviour was quite nice. If you would only learn to hold your own a bit more, and not let chaps like young Davis come it over you, you might do very well. You would never be a shining light, you know; you haven’t got it in you; but you will improve as you gain experience.” Before that day was out, however, Mr. Dodson’s discourse was pitched in another key. This occurred immediately after Mr. Dodson had paid a visit to the refreshment buffet of the Brontë Hotel. “What do you think, Luney?” said Mr. Dodson, with an air of whimsical indignation which yet had a touch of the tragic; “Chrissie has taken the hump. She says she regards it as a personal insult that my governor should have sat down to supper in his uniform. She has broken it off. She has returned this.” “This” was a ring which Mr. Dodson exhibited with a countenance of humorous rue. His mien was at once curiously enigmatic, yet quietly comic. It seemed to imply that this true philosopher was not only resigned to fate’s decree, but also, after the manner of the best practitioners, he was prepared to derive profit and instruction therefrom. “I am in luck,” he said cheerfully; “it is a good and cheap get-out. I ought to have known better, with all my experience. Yet I have got a bit more, without having to pay for it either. Women are no good to a rising man. I suppose young Davis will go in again now; I spoilt his game, you know, my son. Well, he is welcome to her as far as I am concerned. If he lands her he will have my sympathy.” Having reviewed the situation with this wholly admirable breadth, the eminent philosopher dismissed the subject from his thoughts with a calm detachment that was not the least among his gifts. Mr. James Dodson continued to extend his patronage and kindly interest to that hopeless neophyte in the ways of the world, Mr. William Jordan, Junior. On Easter Monday he took him to Margate, “to get a whiff of the sea.”