that when Mrs. Shafto and Madame Galli went to Eastbourne for a week
(at Mrs. Shafto's expense), they had been joined at the Grand Hotel by
Manasseh Levison, who treated them to a special banquet, enlivened by
the finest brands of champagne--and had subsequently motored them back
to town.

The idea that Levison should usurp his father's place overwhelmed
Douglas with horror and shame; the prospect was intolerable; so were
other matters; for instance, his monotonous office life, the want of
variety and fresh air. For exercise, he belonged to a neighbouring
gymnasium, but this was not sufficient for a country-bred, energetic
young man, in his twenty-fourth year. As for the variety of amusements
that satisfied and delighted his brother clerks, they left him cold.
He was sensible of a tormenting thirst for a far-away different
life--and its chances, sick of this existence, of continually going
round and round, like a squirrel in a cage. A change of surroundings
and scene, or a spice of adventure, was what he longed for--as eagerly
and as hopelessly as some fallen wayfarer in a desert land. His
mother's flinty attitude and hostile nagging had frozen a naturally
affectionate disposition, and Shafto passed several years of his youth
without one single ray of woman's love, until generous Mrs. Malone had
come forward and installed him in her heart. His usual routine was
breakfast at eight, office at nine, lunch twelve-thirty, freedom at
six, dinner at seven-thirty. On Saturday afternoons he was expected at
"Monte Carlo"--to join the family at tennis and high tea--and here,
over the little red villa, brooded yet another cloud! Cossie, the
gushing and good-natured, had been given what her brother brutally
termed "the chuck" by her young man; he had taken on another girl, and
his repentance and return were hopeless.