amazing fellow will dig a hole in the universe for to bury the moon."
"I would that all men had ambition," said the lady, looking down at her shoe. "If Witty had only a little of that precious salt which forms a sediment at the bottom of every fine action he would be one's beau-ideal of a hero, a Christian, and a philosopher."
"Minx!" exclaimed the solicitor. "If it were not for my ambition I should never rise from my bed."
"So this wonderful Mr. Whitcomb has no ambition!" said Northcote. "You see I have found his character so complex, that in my capacity of an amateur of the human mind I am picking it out, here a little, there a little, piece by piece."
"You must give him no marks for ambition," said the lady. "But since when did you become acquainted with him not to have found out that?"
"Since this evening at ten."
"Ah, then, you are absolved. He will certainly baffle you at first."
"He is wholly incomprehensible to me. He is a man of moods who oughtn't to have any."
The lady clapped her hands in a little ripple of glee.
"How right," she cried. "In a dozen little words you have shown me the nothingness of my own knowledge."
"Of course he has, Vapid One," said Mr. Whitcomb. "Have I not told you he carries a genie in his pocket?"
"Then that is why his eyes are so deep and bright," said the lady, turning to peruse Northcote
