"Ho, yes, sir, plenty!" nodded Mr, Brimberly, "your late honoured and
respected father, sir, were a rare 'and at buying palaces, sir; 'e
collected 'em, as you might say, like some folks collects postage
starmps, sir!"

"And a collection of the one is about as useless as a collection of the
other, Brimberly!"

"Why, true, sir, one man can't live in a dozen places all at once, but
why not work round 'em in turn, beginning, say, at your imposing
Venetian palazzo--canals, sir, gondoleers--picturesque though dampish?
Or your shally in the Tyro-leen Halps, sir, or--"

"Brimberly, have the goodness to--er--shut up!"

"Certingly, sir."

"To-day is my birthday, Brimberly, and to-night I've reached a kind of
'jumping off' place in my life, and--between you and me--I'm seriously
thinking of--er--jumping off!"

"I crave parding, sir?"

"I'm thirty-five years old," continued Young R., his frown growing
blacker, "and I've never done anything really worth while in all my
useless life! Have the goodness to look at me, will you?"

"With pleasure, sir!"

"Well, what do I look like?"