l you all about it."
"Far too dry," she sighed. "I tried to read it but I never got past the
first half-dozen pages."

"Some day," Tallente observed coolly, "it may be worth your while, all
of you, to try and master the mental inertia which makes thought a
labour; the application which makes a moderately good bridge player
should be sufficient. Otherwise, you may find yourselves living in an
altered state of Society, without any reasonable idea as to how you got
there." Mrs. Ward Levitte turned to her hostess.

"Lady Jane," she begged, "come and rescue us, please. We are being
scolded. Colonel Fosbrook, we need a man to protect us. Mr. Tallente
is threatening us with terrible things."

"We're getting what we asked for," Lady Alice put in quickly.

Colonel Fosbrook caressed for a moment a somewhat scanty moustache. He
was a man of early middle-age, with a high forehead, an aquiline nose
and a somewhat vague expression.

"I'm afraid my protection wouldn't be much use to you," he said,
regarding Tallente with mild interest. "I happen to be one of the few
surviving Tories. I imagine that Mr. Tallente's opinions and mine are
so far apart that even argument would be impossible."

Tallente acquiesced, smiling.

"Besides which, I never argue, outside the House," he added. "You
should stand for Parliament, Colonel Fosbrook, and let us hear once more
the Athanasian Creed of politics. All opposition is wholesome."

Colonel Fosbrook glared. The fact that he had three times stood for
Parliament and three times been defeated was one of the mortifications
of his life. He made his adieux to Jane and departed, and to Tallente's
joy a break-up of the party seemed imminent. Mrs. Ward Levitte drifted
out and Lady English followed suit. Lady Somerham also rose to her
feet, but after a glance at Tallente sat down again.

"My dear Jane," she insisted, "you must dine with us to-night. You
haven't been here long enough to have any engagements, and it always
puts your uncle in such a good temper to hear that you are coming."

Jane shook her head.

"Sorry, aunt," she regretted, "but I am dining with the Temperleys. I
met Diana in Bond Street this morning."

"Thursday, then."

"I am keeping Thursday for--a friend. Saturday I am free."

"Saturday we are going into the country," her aunt said, a little
ungraciously. "Heaven knows what for! Your uncle hates shooting and
always catches cold if he gets his feet wet."

Tallente unwill