“ I don't suppose he will do much falling back,” he said.
“ Well, he is young yet. You are both young. You are squandering your youth. I am an old man, and I see the end.”
“ What end, Sir William?”
“ Charity—and poverty—and some not very congenial 'job,' as you call it, to put bread in your mouth. No, no, I would not like to trust myself to your Providence, or to your Chance. Though I admit your Chance is a sounder proposition than Lilly's Providence. You speculate with your life and your talent. I admit the nature which is a born speculator. After all, with your flute, you will speculate in other people's taste for luxury, as a man may speculate in theatres or trains de luxe . You are the speculator. That may be your way of wisdom. But Lilly does not even speculate. I cannot se
