at reason
was), and with the true refinement of which Mr. Wyse was so amply
possessed, where he was taking all the blame on himself, and putting it
so prettily. She bestowed her widest smile on him.

"Oh, Mr. Wyse," she said. "We shall all quarrel over you."

Not until Miss Mapp had spoken did she perceive how subtle her words
were. They seemed to bracket herself and Mr. Wyse together: all the men
(two out of the three, at any rate) had been quarrelling over her, and
now there seemed a very fair prospect of three of the women quarreling
over Mr. Wyse....

Without being in the least effeminate, Mr. Wyse this morning looked
rather like a modern Troubadour. He had a velveteen coat on, a soft,
fluffy, mushy tie which looked as if made of Shirley poppies, very neat
knickerbockers, brown stockings with blobs, like the fruit of plane
trees, dependent from elaborate "tops," and shoes with a cascade of
leather frilling covering the laces. He might almost equally well be
about to play golf over putting-holes on the lawn as the guitar. He made
a gesture of polished, polite dissent, not contradicting, yet hardly
accepting this tribute, remitting it perhaps, just as the King when he
enters the City of London touches the sword of the Lord Mayor and tells
him to keep it....

"So pleasant to be in Tilling again," he said. "We shall have a cosy,
busy winter, I hope. You, I know, Miss Mapp, are always busy."

"The day is never long enough for me," said Elizabeth enthusiastically.
"What with my household duties in the morning, and my garden, and our
pleasant little gatherings, it is always bed-time too soon. I want to
read a great deal this winter, too."

Diva (at the sight of whom Elizabeth had to make a strong effort of
self-control) here came in, together with Mrs. Poppit, and the party was
complete. Elizabeth would have been willing to bet that, in spite of the
warmness of the morning, Susan would have on her sable coat, and though,
technically, she would have lost, she more than won morally, for Mr.
Wyse's repeated speeches about his greediness were hardly out of his
mouth when she discovered that she had left her handkerchief in the
pocket of her sable coat, which she had put over the back of a
conspicuous chair in the hall. Figgis, however, came in at the moment to
say that lunch was ready, and she delayed them all very much by a long,
ineffectual search for it, during which Figgis, with a visible effort,
held up the sable c