BOOK THIRD: MR. LONGDON
little sort of a set then, you and I; we're an organization of two, at any rate, and we can't help ourselves. There—that's settled." He glanced at the clock on the chimney. "But what's the matter with him?"
"You gentlemen dress so much," said Mr. Longdon.
Mitchy met the explanation quite half-way. "I try to look funny—but why should Apollo in person?"
Mr. Longdon weighed it. "Do you think him like Apollo?"
"The very image. Ask any of the women!"
"But do they know—?"
"How Apollo must look?" Mitchy considered. "Why, the way it works is that it's just from Van's appearance they get the tip, and that then, don't you see? they've their term of comparison. Isn't it what you call a vicious circle? I borrow a little their vice."
Mr. Longdon, who had once more been arrested, once more sidled away. Then he spoke from the other side of the expanse of a table covered with books for which the shelves had no space—covered with portfolios, with wellworn leather-cased boxes, with documents in neat piles. The place was a miscellany, yet not a litter, the picture of an admirable order. "If we're an association of two, you and I, let me, accepting your idea, do what, this way, under a gentleman's roof and while enjoying his hospitality, I should in ordinary circumstances think perhaps something of a breach."
"Oh, strike out!" Mitchy laughed. It possibly chilled his interlocutor, who again hung fire so long that he himself at last adopted his image. "Why doesn't he marry, you mean?"
Mr. Longdon fairly flushed with recognition. "You're very deep, but with what we perceive—why doesn't he?"
Mitchy continued, visibly, to have his amusement, which might have been, this time, and in spite of the amalgamation he had pictured, for what "they" per-
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