“I’ve got a hell of a lot on my mind,” he said, “and it’s a relief to talk to a sensible man.  There aren’t many knocking about so far as I can see.”

He rambled on touching indirectly, as he imagined, at his own affairs, but making it clear to the listener that a very considerable tumult raged in Raymond’s own mind.  Then came Mrs. Northover, told the guest that it was nearer two o’clock than one, and hoped he was soon going to bed.

He promised to do so and she departed; but the faithful Job, himself not sleepy, kept Raymond company.  Unavailingly he urged the desirability of sleep, but young Ironsyde sat on until he was very drunk.  Then Mr. Legg helped him upstairs and assisted him to his bed.

It was after three o’clock before he retired himself and found his mind at liberty to speculate upon the issue of his own great adventure.

CHAPTER XX

A CONFERENCE

Jenny Ironsyde came to see Ernest Churchouse upon the matter of the marriage.  She found him pensive and a little weary.  According to his custom he indulged in ideas before approaching the subject just then uppermost in all minds in Bridetown.

“I have been suffering from rather a severe dose of the actual,” he said; “at present, in the minds of those about me, there is no room for any abstraction.  We are confronted with facts—­painful facts—­a most depressing condition for such a mind as mine.  There are three orders of intelligence, Jenny.  The lowest never reaches higher than the discussion of persons; the second talks about places, which is certainly better; the third soars into the region of ideas; and when one finds a person indulge in ideas, then court their friendship, for ideas are the only sound basis of intellectual interchanges.  It is so strange to see an educated person, who might be discussing the deepest mysteries and noblest problems of life, preferring to relate the errors of a domestic servant, or deplore the price of sprats.”

“All very well for you,” declared Miss Ironsyde; “from your isolated situation, above material cares and anxieties, you can affect this superiority; but what about Mrs. Dinnett?  You would very soon be grumbling if Mrs. Dinnett put the deepest mysteries and noblest problems of life before the price of sprats.  It is true that man cannot live by bread alone; and it is equally true that he cannot live without it.  The highest flights are impossible without cooking, and cooking would be impossible if all aspired to the highest flights.”

“As a matter of fact, Mrs. Dinnett is my present source of depression,” he said.  “All is going as it should go, I suppose.  The young people are reconciled, and I have arranged that Sabina should be married from here a fortnight hence.  Thus, as it were, I shield and protect her and support her against back-biting and evil tongues.”

“It is splendid of you.”