Well, to-morrow I leave Murglebed for ever; it has my benison.
Democritus returns to London.



CHAPTER II

I was at breakfast on the morning after my arrival in London, when Dale
Kynnersley rushed in and seized me violently by the hand.

"By Jove, here you are at last!"

I smoothed my crushed fingers. "You have such a vehement manner of
proclaiming the obvious, my dear Dale."

"Oh, rot!" he said. "Here, Rogers, give me some tea--and I think I'll
have some toast and marmalade."

"Haven't you breakfasted?"

A cloud overspread his ingenuous countenance.

"I came down late, and everything was cold and mother was on edge.
The girls are always doing the wrong things and I never do the right
ones--you know the mater--so I swallowed a tepid kidney and rushed off."

"Save for her worries over you urchins," said I, "I hope Lady Kynnersley
is well?"