truth, and it is not comfort." Leaning against the wall near the
doorway, he contemplated with grave interest the striking countenance
of his distinguished host. He detected beneath that courteous smile
and that urbane manner the signs of care. The eye was absent, the
cheek pinched, the brow furrowed. Kenelm turned away his looks, and
glanced over the animated countenances of the idle loungers along
commoner thoroughfares in life. Their eyes were not absent; their
brows were not furrowed; their minds seemed quite at home in
exchanging nothings. Interest many of them had in the approaching
struggle, but it was much such an interest as betters of small sums
may have on the Derby day,--just enough to give piquancy to the race;
nothing to make gain a great joy, or loss a keen anguish.

"Our host is looking ill," said Mivers, accosting Kenelm. "I detect
symptoms of suppressed gout. You know my aphorism, 'nothing so gouty
as ambition,' especially Parliamentary ambition."

"You are not one of those friends who press on my choice of life that
source of disease; allow me to thank you."

"Your thanks are misplaced. I strongly advise you to devote yourself
to a political career."

"Despite the gout?"

"Despite the gout. If you could take the world as I do, my advice
might be different. But your mind is overcrowded with doubts and
fantasies and crotchets, and you have no choice but to give them vent
in active life."