In the charting of his course he had often found two other rocks beside Scylla and Charybdis in his way; one was boredom and the other was love.

When a woman began to bore him, or he found himself liking her beyond the limit of his philosophy, he invariably found relief in change of scene.

Sometimes it was a sick aunt or a persistent lawyer or an engagement nearly forgotten and which must be kept at all hazards.
He never, however, left his inamorata in either tears or anger.
"Now, don't be cross, dear," he cried, patting her shoulder with his fingers.

"You know I don't want to leave you.

I shall be perfectly wretched while I'm gone, but there's no help for it.