"What, don't you know him, bumpkin?"

"She will never be him. Her shape is all provocative she."

This humble wit was not remarked. His ignorance occupied them, "Oh Lud,
not to know the Old Corporal!"

One of Harry's eyebrows went up. "That the Old Corporal? Faith, I am
sorry for him."

He received a handful of mud in his face. With a cry of "Rot your
impudence," they splashed off.

While he wiped the mud out of his eyes, Harry felt a very comfortable
self-satisfaction. It was agreeable to pity His Grace of Marlborough. For
the Duke of Marlborough was still the greatest man in Europe, the
greatest man in the world--credibly the greatest man that ever lived. A
pleasant fool, to marry such a wife and to keep her.

Harry Boyce at no time in his life had much admiration for human
eminence. In this, his hungry youth, he was set upon despising rank and
power, great fame and pure virtue, as no more than the luck of fools. He
would always atone by finding sympathy and excuses for any rogue's
roguery. Highly fortified in this faith by the exhibition of
Marlborough's matrimonial happiness, he trudged back.

The delay over the coach had left him no time for small ale at Barnet.
Mr. Waverton, though amiably pleased to deliver Harry from attendance on
his mother, required constant attendance on himself. He would be, in his