ns_--not ideas. Ideas are not
your line!"

Meadows flushed a little. What his "line" might be, he said, he had not
yet discovered. But he liked his subject, and meant to stick to it.

Lady Dunstable turned on him a pair of sarcastic eyes.

"That's so like you clever people. You would die rather than take
advice."

"Advice!--yes. As much as you like, dear lady. But--"

"But what--" she asked, imperatively, nettled in her turn.

"Well--you must put it prettily!" said Meadows, smiling. "We want a
great deal of jam with the powder."

"You want to be flattered? I never flatter! It is the most despicable of
arts."

"On the contrary--one of the most skilled. And I have heard you do it to
perfection."

His daring half irritated, half amused her. It was her turn to flush.
Her thin, sallow face and dark eyes lit up vindictively.

"One should never remind one's friends of their vices," she said with
animation.

"Ah--if they _are_ vices! But flattery is merely a virtue out of
place--kindness gone wrong. From the point of view of the moralist, that
is. From the point of view of the ordinary mortal, it is what no
men--and few women--can do without!"

She smiled grimly, enjoying the spar. They carried it on a little while,
Meadows, now fairly on his mettle, administering a little deft though
veiled castigation here and there, in requital for various acts of
rudeness of which she had been guilty towards him and others during the
preceding days. She grew restive occasionally, but on the whole she bore
it well. Her arrogance was not of the small-minded sort; and the best
chance with her was to defy her.

At the gate leading on to the moor, Meadows resolutely came to a stop.

"Your letters are the merest excuse!" said Lady Dunstable. "I don't
believe you will write one of them! I notice you always put off
unpleasant duties."

"Give me credit at least for the intention."

Smiling, he held the gate open for her, and she passed through,
discomfited, to join Sir Luke on the other side. Mr. Frome, the
Under-Secretary, a young man of Jewish family and amazing talents, who
had been listening with amusement to the conversation behind him, turned
back to say to Meadows, at a safe distance--"Keep it up!--Keep it up!
You avenge us all!"

* * * * *

Presently, as she and her two companions wound slowly up the moor, Sir
Luke Malford, who had only arrived the night before, inquired gaily of
his ho