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 never continue the unequal struggle with existence."

"I'm quite satisfied, my lord, thank you," said Hoskins, with customary literalness.

Lord Drewitt replaced his cup and, turning, surveyed his servant with deliberation.

"With everything, Hoskins?" he enquired incredulously.

"Yes, my lord, I think so."

"How weird," exclaimed Lord Drewitt. "You had better join a trade-union as a corrective. It's not natural. It's infernally unnatural, and it may lead to—to anything. From wife-murder to—to"

"But I'm not married, my lord," said Hoskins hurriedly.

"I didn't say whose wife," said Lord Drewitt irritably. "God knows there are enough wives about."

"Yes, my lord."

"Suppose I were to get married," Lord Drewitt helped himself to another cigarette, which he lighted with great deliberation.

"Yes, my lord."

"Don't say 'Yes, my lord' in that colourless sort of voice, man, as if you didn't care."

"I beg pardon, my lord," said Hoskins contritely.

"Suppose I were to get married, what would you do?" Lord Drewitt leaned back with the air of a man who has given utterance to the worst that can befall him.

"If your lordship had no further need for my