divorce is
framed. They've all three got courage, they're all reckless and
obstinate, and--forgive me--thick-skinned. Their case, if fought, will
take a week of hard swearing, a week of the public's money and time. It
will give admirable opportunities to eminent counsel, excellent reading
to the general public, first-rate sport all round.

"The papers will have a regular carnival. I repeat, they are the very
people for whom our law of divorce is framed. There's a great deal to be
said for publicity, but all the same it puts a premium on insensibility,
and causes a vast amount of suffering to innocent people. I told you
once before, to get a divorce, even if you deserve it, you mustn't be a
sensitive person. Those three will go through it all splendidly, but
every scrap of skin will be torn off you and our poor friends down here,
and the result will be a drawn battle at the end! That's if it's fought,
and if it comes on I don't see how we can let it go unfought; it's
contrary to my instincts. If we let it go undefended, mark my words,
your ward and George Pendyce will be sick of each other before the law
allows them to marry, and George, as his father says, for the sake of
'morality,' will have to marry a woman who is tired of him, or of whom he
is tired. Now you've got it straight from the shoulder, and I'm going up
to bed. It's a heavy dew. Lock this door after you."

Mr. Paramor made his way into the conservatory. He stopped and came
back.

"Pendyce," he said, "perfectly understands all I've been telling you.
He'd give his eyes for the case not to come on, but you'll see he'll rub
everything up the wrong way, and it'll be a miracle if we succeed.
That's 'Pendycitis'! We've all got a touch of it. Good-night!"

Gregory was left alone outside the country house with his big star. And
as his thoughts were seldom of an impersonal kind he did not reflect on
"Pendycitis," but on Helen Bellew. And the longer he thought the more he
thought of her as he desired to think, for this was natural to him; and
ever more ironical grew the twinkling of his star above the spinney where
the nightingale was singing.

CHAPTER X

GEORGE GOES FOR THE GLOVES

On the Thursday of the Epsom Summer Meeting, George Pendyce sat in the
corner of a first-class railway-carriage trying to make two and two into
five. On a sheet of Stoics' Club note-paper his racing-debts were stated
to a penny--one thousand and forty five pou