Two sources of inspiration were
wanting to me--that of a superlative subject and that of a
superlative model. For the first I am indebted to Philip Aylwin; for
the second I am indebted to--'
'A greater still, Miss Gudgeon, of Primrose Court,' interjected
Cyril.
'For the second I'm indebted to my mother. And yet something else was
wanting,' continued Wilderspin, 'to enable me for many months to
concentrate my life upon one work--the self-sacrificing generosity of
such a friend as I think no man ever had before.
'Wilderspin,' said Cyril, rising, 'the Duke of Little Egypt sleeps,
as you see. His Grace of the Pyramids snores, as you hear. The
autobiography of a man of genius is interesting; but I fear that
yours will have to be continued in our next.'
'But Mr. Aylwin wants to hear--'
'He and our other idyllic friends are early to bed and early to rise;
they have, in the morning, trout to catch for breakfast, and we have
a good way to walk to-night.'
'That's just like my friend,' said Wilderspin. 'That's my friend all
over.'
With this they left us, and we betook ourselves to our usual evening
occupations.
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