not to mine. If a man is enslaved to his own appetites, he has no right to enslave another to them.”

The following day David took himself back to his hermitage, setting aside all persuasions to remain.

“Don’t make a recluse of yourself,” begged the bishop’s wife. “The amenities of life can’t always be dispensed with, and we need you, James and I, you and your music.”

David laughed. “I’m too fatally human to become a recluse, and as for the amenities, they are not all of one order, you know. I find plenty of scope for exercising them on others, and I often submit to having them exercised on me, — after their own ideas.” He laughed again. “I wish you could look into my larder. You’d