me. Let me ask you to put yourself in my place. I am barely forty
years old, and I am rich. I want to make the most of my life--under
the somewhat peculiar circumstances. How and where should you live?"

"It depends a little upon your tastes, of course," Rocke answered.
"You are a sportsman, are you not?"

"I am fond of sport," Wingrave answered. "At least I was. At present I
am not conscious of having any positive tastes."

"I think," Rocke continued, "that I should first of all change my
name. Then, without making any effort to come into touch with your old
friends, I should seek acquaintance amongst the Bohemian world of
London and Paris. There I might myself, perhaps, be able to help you.
For sport, you might fish in Norway or Iceland, or shoot in Hungary;
you could run to a yacht if you cared about it, and if you fancy big
game, why, there's all Africa before you."

Wingrave listened, without changing a muscle of his face.

"Your programme," he remarked, "presupposes that I have no ambitions
beyond the pursuit of pleasure."

Rocke shrugged his shoulders. He was becoming more at his ease. He
felt that his advice was sound, that he was showing a most
comprehensive grasp of the situation.

"I am afraid," he said, "that none of what we call the careers are
open to you. You could not enter Parliament, and you are too old for
the professions. The services, of course, are impossible. You might