"I never mentioned the word 'pay,'" said Mr. Pembroke uneasily.

"You must not consider money. There are ideals too."

"I have no ideals."

Rickie!" she exclaimed. "Horrible boy!"

"No, Agnes, I have no ideals." Then he got very red, for it was a
phrase he had caught from Ansell, and he could not remember what
came next.

"The person who has no ideals," she exclaimed, "is to be pitied."

"I think so too," said Mr. Pembroke, sipping his coffee. "Life
without an ideal would be like the sky without the sun."

Rickie looked towards the night, wherein there now twinkled
innumerable stars--gods and heroes, virgins and brides, to whom
the Greeks have given their names.

"Life without an ideal--" repeated Mr. Pembroke, and then
stopped, for his mouth was full of coffee grounds. The same
affliction had overtaken Agnes. After a little jocose laughter
they departed to their lodgings, and Rickie, having seen them as
far as the porter's lodge, hurried, singing as he went, to
Ansell's room, burst open the door, and said, "Look here!
Whatever do you mean by it?"