Sorrento taught me about that."

"A man in Sorrento!" said Miss Van Tuyn, suddenly and sharply on the
alert.

"Yes. He was a famous writer, and had, I dare say, been a famous lover
in his time. One day, as we drove beyond the town towards the hills,
he described to me the compensations old age holds for sensible people.
It's a question of cultivating and preparing the mind, of filling the
storehouse against the day of famine. He had done it, and assured me
that he didn't regret his lost youth or sigh after its unrecoverable
pleasures. He had accustomed his mind to its task."

"What task, dearest?"

"Acting in connexion with the soul--his word that--as a thoroughly
efficient substitute for his body as a pleasure giver."

At this moment the adoring eyes of the three musicians who were
"hairdressers in the daytime" focussed passionately upon Miss Van Tuyn,
distracted her attention. She felt masculinity intent upon her and
responded automatically.

"The dear boys! They are asking if they shall play the Pastorale for me.
Look at their eyes!" she said.

Craven did not bother to do that, but looked instead at hers, wondering
a little at her widespread energy in net casting. Was it possible that
once Lady Sellingworth had been like that, ceaselessly on the
lookout for worship, requiring it as a right, even from men who were