Waldemar laughed. "Not a bad diagnosis. Why don't you take up a
hobby, Mr. Jones?"

"What kind of a hobby?"

"Any kind. The club is full of hobby-riders. Of all people that I
know, they have the keenest appetite for life. Look at old
Denechaud; he was a misanthrope until he took to gathering scarabs.
Fenton, over there, has the finest collection of circus posters in
the world. Bellerding's house is a museum of obsolete musical
instruments. De Gay collects venomous insects from all over the
world; no harmless ones need apply. Terriberry has a mania for old
railroad tickets. Some are really very curious. I've often wished
I had the time to be a crank. It's a happy life."

"What line would you choose?" asked Bertram languidly.

"Nobody has gone in for queer advertisements yet, I believe,"
replied the older man. "If one could take the time to follow them
up---but it would mean all one's leisure."

"Would it be so demanding a career?" said Average Jones, smiling.

"Decidedly. I once knew a man who gave away twenty dollars daily on
clues from the day's news. He wasn't bored for lack of occupation."

"But the ordinary run of advertising is nothing more than an effort
to sell something by yelling in print," objected Average Jones.