thoughts, however, he kept it back, remarking that he would not trouble his friend to take charge of it but would come and see him straightway in London and leave it at his door if he should fail to obtain admittance.
"Ah! you probably will fail; my wife's always out, or when she isn't out she's knocked up from having been out. You must come and dine—though that won't do much good either, for my wife insists on big dinners. You must come down and see us in the country, that's the best way; we have plenty of room, and it isn't bad."
"You have a house in the country?" Paul asked, enviously.
"Ah, not like this! But we have a sort of place we go to—an hour from Euston. That's one of the reasons."
"One of the reasons?"
"Why my books are so bad."
"You must tell me all the others!" Paul exclaimed, laughing.
St. George made no direct rejoinder to this; he only inquired rather abruptly: "Why have I never seen you before?"
The tone of the question was singularly flattering to his new comrade; it seemed to imply that he perceived now that for years he had missed something. "Partly, I suppose, because there has been no particular reason why you should see me. I haven't lived in the world—in your world. I have spent many years out of England, in different places abroad."
"Well, please don't do it any more. You must do England—there's such a lot of it."
"Do you mean I must write about it?" Paul asked, in a voice which had the note of the listening candour of a child.
