may be called upon to support yourself?"

"It did once," said Lewis, "when I started for Oeiras. Then I met you.
You haven't given me time or--or cause to think about it since. I'm--I'm
not ungrateful----"

"That's enough," broke in Leighton. "Let's stick to the point. It's a
lucky thing for the progress of the world that riches often take to the
wing. It may happen to any of us at any time. The amount of stupidity
that sweating humanity applies to the task of making a living is
colossal. In about a million years we'll learn that making a living
consists in knowing how to do well any necessary thing. It's harder for
a gentleman to make a living than for a farm-hand. But--come with me."

He took Lewis to a certain Mecca of mighty appetites in the Strand.
Before choosing a table, he made the round of the roasts, shoulders and
fowl. They were in great domed, silver salvers, each on a barrow, each
kept hot over lighted lamps.

Leighton seated himself and ordered.

"Now, boy, without staring take a good look at the man that does the
carving."

One of the barrows was trundled to their table. An attendant lifted the
domed cover with a flourish. With astounding rapidity the carver took an
even cut from the mighty round of beef, then another. The cover was
clapped on again, and the barrow trundled away.

"You saw him?" asked Leighton.