Judge Enderby remarked that night to his friend Dr. Alderson, while the
two old hard-faced soft-hearts sat smoking their good-night cigar over
the Tyro's troubles, in the course of a dissertation which would have
vastly astonished his _confrères_ of the metropolitan bar:--
"It's fortunate that the course of true love never does run smooth. If
it did, marriages would have to be made chiefly in heaven. Mighty few of
them would get themselves accomplished on earth. For love is, by nature,
an obstacle race. Run on the flat, without any difficulties, it would
lose its zest both for pursuer and pursued, and Judge Cupid would as
well shut up court and become an advocate of race suicide. But as for
that spade lead, Alderson--are you listening?"
"She's a devilishly pretty girl," grunted
