There are times in his life when--as Madame de Clericy said, with her wise smile--a man is better alone.
And are there not occasions when the most eloquent of us is best dumb?
I had for travelling companion on the bright autumn morning when I quitted Paris my father's friend, John Turner--called suddenly to England on matters of business.

He gave a grunt when he saw me in the Northern station.
"Better have taken my advice," he said, "to go home and make it up with your father, rather than stay here to run after that girl with the pretty hair--at your time of life.

Avoid quarrels and seek a reconciliation--that is my plan.

Best way is to ask the other chap to dinner and do him well.

What are you going home for now?
It is too late." As, indeed, I knew without the telling.