It seemed a good suggestion, so they all adjourned to the smoking-room, and indulged in further conversation while they enjoyed their coffee and cigarettes. Shortly afterwards Otterburn and his friend departed for the Marlowe Theatre, while Eustace in company with Guy went off to his rooms in Half Moon Street, Piccadilly. Used as he was to hardships in foreign lands, Eustace always took care to make up for his deprivations by making himself very comfortable at home, consequently his rooms left nothing to be desired in the way of luxury. His valet was well accustomed to his master coming in at all kinds of unexpected times, consequently when they arrived the room was well lighted, the chairs disposed in tempting corners, and a spirit-stand with glasses and soda-water stood ready for any thirsty soul. Eustace placed his cousin in a well-cushioned chair, gave him an excellent cigar, then, lighting one himself, took his seat opposite to Guy and prepared to play the part of father confessor. It was a hot night and the windows were standing slightly open, letting in the pleasant, confused noise of the street, with its rattling of cabs, voices of people, and footfalls of innumerable pedestrians. The faint sound of a barrel organ playing the last new tune, "Oh, she's left me for another," came softly to their ears, and they sat smoking silently for a few moments until Errington spoke. "I told you I saw Aunt Jelly to-day." "Yes and what did she say?" "A good many disagreeable things," replied Guy bitterly; "according to her showing, I must be a singularly wicked man." "Aunt Jelly," observed Eustace philosophically, "knows very little about the actual world, and having lived apart from her fellow creatures for many years, has formed in her own mind an ideal life to which she expects all her friends and relations to conform. Unfortunately, the majority of nineteenth century people are neither Lucreces nor Bayards, consequently Aunt Jelly, in Pharisee fashion, rails at the world and says, 'Thank God, I'm not as other women are.'" "She is as other women are in the matter of listening to gossip," said Guy emphatically, "for she tells me it is common talk that I have left my wife for the superior attractions of Mrs. Veilsturm." Eustace looked up suddenly in dismay. "My dear fellow, you must be making a mistake." "I'm making no mistake," returned Guy doggedly. "Aunt Jelly says it is common talk. Have you heard anything about it?" "You know I never pay attention to gossip," said Gartney evasively, "I don't even listen to it, but you may be certain that anyone who poses as the _cher ami_ of Mrs. Veilsturm won't escape calumny." "I don't pose as the _cher ami_ of Mrs. Veilsturm," said Errington fiercely. "I don't care two straws about her." "Actions speak louder than words. You certainly have acted as if you did." "Good Heavens, Eustace, you surely don't believe all these lies?" retorted Guy wrathfully, rising from his chair.