t suavity. "I am paying a high compliment to your
intelligence. To have run into the arms of Mr. Barking, or indeed of
anybody else, casually and involuntarily, to have blundered into
them--if I may so express myself--would have been a stupidity. But to
run into them intentionally and voluntarily argues considerable powers
of strategy, an intelligent direction of movement which I respect and
admire."

"You are really exceedingly provoking, Ludovic!"

Lady Louisa pushed the square, leather-covered dressing-case, on which
her feet had been resting, impatiently aside.

"Far from it," the young man answered. "Can I put that box anywhere
else for you? You like it just where it is?--Yes? But I assure you I am
not provoking. I am merely complimentary. Conversation is an art,
Louisa. None of my sisters ever can be got to understand that. It is
dreadfully crude to rush in waist-deep at once. There should be feints
and approaches. You should nibble at your sugar with a graceful
coyness. You should cut a few frills and skirmish a little before
setting the battle actively in array. And it is just this that I have
been striving to do during the last five minutes. But you do not appear
to appreciate the commendable style of my preliminaries. You want to
engage immediately. There is usually a first-rate underlying reason for
your interest in anybody----"

Again the lady shifted the position of the dressing-case.

"To the right?" inquired Mr. Quayle extending his hand, his head a
little on one side, his long neck directed forward, while he regarded
first his sister and then the dressing-case with infuriating urbanity.
"No? Let us come to Hecuba, then. Let us dissemble no longer, but put
it plainly. What, oh, Louisa! what are you driving at in respect of my
very dear friend, Dickie Calmady?"

Now it was unquestionably most desirable for her to keep on the
fair-weather side of Mr. Quayle just then. Yet the flesh is weak. Lady
Louisa Barking could not control a movement of self-justification. She
spoke with dignity, severely.

"It is all very well for you to say those sort of things, Ludovic----"

"What sort of things?" he inquired mildly.

"But I should be glad to know what would have become of the family by
now, unless some one had come forward and taken matters in hand? Of
course one gets no thanks for it. One never does get any thanks for
doing one's duty, however wearing it is to oneself and however much
others profit. But