A Young Man's Year. Anthony Hope
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"Yes, sir, but you see, I didn't know—I didn't quite understand what you meant."
"You might have thought it worth while to find out," said the old man, smiling. "As it was, I'm told you had to be fetched."
Arthur laughed shamefacedly but happily. That was already a standing joke between him and Bernadette; hence the associations of it were altogether pleasant.
Sir Christopher's way was not to spoil joy in the name of wisdom nor to preach a safety that was to be won through cowardice. He saw the young man's excitement and exaltation, and commended it.
"Take as much of this sort of thing as you can get," he counselled, nodding his head towards the crowd and, incidentally, towards Bernadette. "Take a good dose of the world. It'll do you good. Society's an empty thing to people with empty heads, but not to the rest of us. And the more you go about, and so on—well, the fewer terrors will my Brother Pretyman possess for you."
Arthur Lisle caught at the notion eagerly. "Just what I've had in my own mind, sir," he said gravely.
"I thought from the look of you that you had some such wise idea in your head," said Sir Christopher with equal seriousness.
Arthur blushed, looked at him rather apprehensively, and then laughed. The Judge remained grave, but his blue eyes twinkled distantly. O mihi praeteritos—that old tag was running in his head.
"It's getting late; only bores stay late at large parties. Come and say good-night to our hostess."
"Do you think we might?" asked Arthur.
Certainly he was all of a flutter, as Judith Arden said.
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