rty stalwarts
and fired the ambition of innumerable earnest but earnestly competitive
young men. It opened the eyes of the Labour leaders to the higher
possibilities of Parliament. And then suddenly came a stir, a rush, a
cry of "Tear off his epaulettes!" and outrage was afoot. And two quite
nice-looking young women!

It is unhappily not necessary to describe the scene that followed. Mr.
Blapton made a brave fight for his epaulettes, fighting chiefly with
his cocked hat, which was bent double in the struggle. Mrs. Blapton
gave all the assistance true womanliness could offer and, in fact, she
boxed the ears of one of his assailants very soundly. The intruders were
rescued in an extremely torn and draggled condition from the indignant
statesmen who had fallen upon them by tardy but decisive police....

Such scenes sprinkle the recent history of England with green and purple
patches and the interest of this particular one for us is only because
of Georgina's share in it. That was brought home to Sir Isaac, very
suddenly and disagreeably, while he was lunching at the Climax Club with
Sir Robert Charterson. A man named Gobbin, an art critic or something of
that sort, one of those flimsy literary people who mar the solid worth
of so many great clubs, a man with a lot of hair and the sort of loose
tie that so often seems to be less of a tie than a detachment from all
decent restraints, told him. Charterson was holding forth upon the
outrage.

"That won't suit Sir Isaac, Sir Robert," said Gobbin presuming on his
proximity.

Sir Isaac tried to give him a sort of look one gives to an
unsatisfactory clerk.

"They went there with Sir Isaac's tickets," said Gobbin.

"They _never_----!"

"Horatio Blenker was looking for you in the hall. Haven't you seen him?
After all the care they took. The poor man's almost in tears."

"They never had tickets of mine!" cried Sir Isaac stoutly and
indignantly.

And then the thought of Georgina came like a blow upon his heart....

In his flurry he went on denying....

The subsequent conversation in the smoking-room was as red-eared and
disagreeable for Sir Isaac as any conversation could be. "But how
_could_ such a thing have happened?" he asked in a voice that sounded
bleached to him. "How could such a thing have come about?" Their eyes
were dreadful. Did they guess? Could they guess? Conscience within him
was going up and down shouting out, "Georgina, your sister-in-law,
Georgina," s