"As to that, I _have_ been getting along a little farther;--I've been
to the Library, looking somewhat ahead in the completer edition. I find
that 'Will,' who flung his cloak over his shoulder, 'like a ruffian,' and
got his ears boxed for it, was no mere temporary serving-man, but lived on
with Pepys for years and became the most intimate and trusted of his
friends. And 'Gosnell,' who lasted three days, you remember, as Mrs. Pepys'
maid, turns up a year or two later as an actress at 'the Duke's house.' and
'Deb,' that other maid whose name we have noted farther along--well,
there's a deal more about her than exactly tends to edification...."

"Good. I hope we shall have some more of it pretty soon."

"To-day?"

"Not exactly to-day. I've got some other things to think about."

"Such as?"

"Well, I expect you're going to be invited here to dinner pretty soon?"

"So? I've been invited here to dinner before this."

"But another day has come. A new light has risen. I haven't seen it, but
I've heard it. I've heard it sing."

"A light singing? Aren't you getting mixed?"

"Oh, I don't know. There was Viollet-le-Duc and the rose-window of Notre
Dame. They took him there as a child for a choral service, and he thought
it was the rose itself that sang. And there was Petrarch, and the young