the direction most congenial to it.

_Podb._ So's mine. By the way, have you got a book--don't mean a
novel, but a regular improving book--the stodgier the better--to lend
a fellow?

_Culch._ Well, I brought an _Epitome of Herbert Spencer's Synthetic
Philosophy_ away with me to dip into occasionally. It seems a very
able summary, and you are welcome to it, if it's of any use to you.

_Podb._ SPENCER, eh?--he's a stiff kind of old bird, ain't he? He'll
do me to-rights, thanks.

_Culch._ It strikes me, PODBURY, that you must find the time
rather long, to want a book of that kind. If you wish to resume
our--ah--original relations, I am quite ready to overlook what I am
sure was only a phase of not unnatural disappointment.

_Podb._ (_cheerily_). Oh, _that's_ all right, old fellow. I've got
over all that business. (_He colours slightly._) How soon did you
think of moving on?

_Culch._ (_briskly_). As soon as you please. We might start for
Constance to-morrow, if you like.

_Podb._ (_hesitating_) Well, you see, it's just this: there's a fellow
staying at my hotel--PRENDERGAST, his name is--rattling good sort--and
I've rather chummed up with him, and--and he's travelling with a
relation of his, and--well, the fact is, they rather made a point of
my going on to Constance with _them_, don't you see? But I daresay