little country villages—and of men like you, Dick, and it makes one feel as if one couldn't bear not to be English! Think of the light burning over the House, Dick! When I stood on deck just now I seemed to see it. It's what one means by London.
"It's the continuity," said Richard sententiously. A vision of English history, King following King, Prime Minister Prime Minister, and Law Law had come over him while his wife spoke. He ran his mind along the line of conservative policy, which went steadily from Lord Salisbury to Alfred, and gradually enclosed, as though it were a lasso that opened and caught things, enormous chunks of the habitable globe.
"It's taken a long time, but we've pretty nearly done it," he said; "it remains to consolidate."
"And these people don't see it!" Clarissa exclaimed.
"It takes all sorts to make a world," said her husband. "There would never be a government if there weren't an opposition."
"Dick, you're better than I am," said Clarissa. "You see round, where I only see there." She pressed a point on the back of his hand.
"That's my business, as I tried to explain at dinner."
"What I like about you, Dick," she continued, "is that you're always the same, and I'm a creature of moods."
"You're a pretty creature, anyhow," he said, gazing at her with deeper eyes.
"You think so, do you? Then kiss me."
He kissed her passionately, so that her half-written letter slid to the groimd. Picking it up, he read it without asking leave.
"Where's your pen?" he said; and added in his little masculine hand:
R. D. loquitur: Clarice has omitted to tell you that she looked exceedingly pretty at dinner, and made a conquest by which she has bound herself to learn the Greek alphabet. I will take this occasion of adding that we are both enjoying ourselves in these outlandish parts, and only wish for the
