"Not at all—once more. I should like to take a year and spend it among the manor-houses of Warwickshire. But I suppose nobody would stake me to that."
"I don't know what you have in mind; some wild goose chase, probably. I expect your friends would like it better if you spent your time right here."
"Probably. I presume I shall end by doing a thesis on the 'color-words' in Keats and Shelley. A penniless devil has no luck."
"Anybody has luck who can form the right circle. Stay where you are. A circle formed here would do you much more good than a temporary one four thousand miles away."
Voices were heard in the front yard. "There they come, now," Mrs. Phillips said. She rose, and one more of the wayward cushions went to the floor. It lay there unregarded,—a sign that a promising tête-à-tête was, for the time being, over.
