n of fatigue under the sonorous ring of statistics
poured out from Cougham was translated by Palmet into yawns and sighs of
a profoundly fraternal sympathy. Her face quickened on the rising of
Beauchamp to speak. She kept eye on him all the while, as Palmet, with
the skill of an adept in disguising his petty larceny of the optics, did
on her. Twice or thrice she looked pained: Beauchamp was hesitating for
the word. Once she looked startled and shut her eyes: a hiss had sounded;
Beauchamp sprang on it as if enlivened by hostility, and dominated the
factious note. Thereat she turned to a gentleman sitting beside her;
apparently they agreed that some incident had occurred characteristic of
Nevil Beauchamp; for whom, however, it was not a brilliant evening. He
was very well able to account for it, and did so, after he had walked a
few steps with Miss Denham on her homeward way.

'You heard Cougham, Palmet! He's my senior, and I'm obliged to come
second to him, and how am I to have a chance when he has drenched the
audience for close upon a couple of hours!'

Palmet mimicked the manner of Cougham.

'They cry for Turbot naturally; they want a relief,' Beauchamp groaned.

Palmet gave an imitation of Timothy Turbot.

He was an admirable mimic, perfectly spontaneous, without stressing any
points, and Beauchamp was provoked to laugh his discontentment with the
evening out of recollection.

But a grave matter troubled Palmet's head.

'Who was that fellow who walked off with Miss Denham?'

'A married man,' said Beauchamp: 'badly married; more 's the pity; he has
a wife in the madhouse. His name is Lydiard.'

'Not her brother! Where's her uncle?'

'She won't let him come to these meetings. It's her idea; well-intended,
but wrong, I think. She's afraid that Dr. Shrapnel will alarm the
moderate Liberals and damage Radical me.'

Palmet muttered between his teeth, 'What queer things they let their
women do!' He felt compelled to say, 'Odd for her to be walking home at
night with a fellow like that.'

It chimed too consonantly with a feeling of Beauchamp's, to repress which
he replied: 'Your ideas about women are simply barbarous, Palmet. Why
shouldn't she? Her uncle places his confidence in the man, and in her.
Isn't that better--ten times more likely to call out the sense of honour
and loyalty, than the distrust and the scandal going on in your class?'

'Please to say yours too.'

'I've no class. I say that the educatio