The question was, having understood Rickman, having discovered in him
a neglected genius, having introduced him to the Club and asked him to
dinner on the strength of it, how much further was he prepared to go?
Why--provided he was sure of the genius, almost any length, short of
introducing him to the ladies of his family. But was he sure? Savage
Rickman was young, and youth is deceptive. Supposing he--Jewdwine--was
deceived? Supposing the genius were to elude him, leaving him saddled
with the man? What on earth should he do with him?

Things had been simpler in the earlier days of their acquaintance,
when the counter stood between them, and formed a firm natural barrier
to closer intercourse. Nobody, not even Jewdwine, knew what that
handshake across the counter had meant for Rickman; how his soul had
hungered and thirsted for Jewdwine's society; how, in "the little
rat'ole in the City," it had consumed itself with longing. It was his
first great passion, a passion that waited upon chance; to be
gratified for five minutes, ten minutes at the most. Once Jewdwine had
hung about the shop for half an hour talking; the interview being
broken by Rickman's incessant calls to the counter. Once, they had
taken a walk together down Cheapside, which from that moment became a
holy place. Then came the day when, at Jewdwine's invitation, _Helen
in Leuce_ travelled down from London to Oxford, and from Oxford to
Harmouth. Her neo-classic beauty appealed to Jewdwine's taste (and to
the taste of Jewdwine's cousin); he recognized in Rickman a disciple,
and was instantly persuaded of his genius. At one bound Rickman had
leapt the barrier of the counter; and here he was, enthusiastic and
devoted. To be sure, his devotion was not fed largely upon praise;
for, unlike the younger man, Jewdwine admired but sparingly. Neither
was it tainted with any thought of material advantage. Jewdwine was