rapped at her door but after one muffled
"Who's that?" he could get no further response.

"I want to tell you about Georgina," he said.

He tried the handle but the discreet lady within had turned the key upon
her dignity.

"I want," he shouted, "to tell you about Georgina.... GEORGINA! Oh
_damn_!"

Silence.

Tea awaited him downstairs. He hovered about the drawing-room, making
noises between his teeth.

"Snagsby," said Sir Isaac, "just tell Mrs. Sawbridge I shall be obliged
if she will come down to tea."

"Mrs. Sawbridge 'as a '_ead_ache, Sir Isaac," said Mr. Snagsby with
extreme blandness. "She asked me to acquaint you. She 'as ordered tea in
'er own apartment."

For a moment Sir Isaac was baffled. Then he had an inspiration. "Just
get me the _Times_, Snagsby," he said.

He took the paper and unfolded it until a particular paragraph was
thrown into extreme prominence. This he lined about with his fountain
pen and wrote above it with a quivering hand, "These women's tickets
were got by Georgina under false pretences from me." He handed the paper
thus prepared back to Snagsby. "Just take this paper to Mrs. Sawbridge,"
he said, "and ask her what she thinks of it?"

But Mrs. Sawbridge tacitly declined this proposal for a correspondence
_via_ Snagsby.

Sec.7

There was no excuse for Georgina.

Georgina had obtained tickets from Sir Isaac for the great party
reception at Barleypound House, under the shallow pretext that she
wanted them for "two spinsters from the country," for whose good
behaviour she would answer, and she had handed them over to that
organization of disorder which swayed her mind. The historical outrage
upon Mr. Blapton was the consequence.

Two desperate and misguided emissaries had gone to the great reception,
dressed and behaving as much as possible like helpful Liberal women;
they had made their way towards the brilliant group of leading Liberals
of which Mr. Blapton was the centre, assuming an almost Whig-like
expression and bearing to mask the fires within, and had then suddenly
accosted him. It was one of those great occasions when the rank and file
of the popular party is privileged to look upon Court dress. The
ministers and great people had come on from Buckingham Palace in their
lace and legs. Scarlet and feathers, splendid trains and mysterious
ribbons and stars, gave an agreeable intimation of all that it means to
be in office to the dazzled wives and daughters of the pa