ponge-bag trousers, a little spotted tie, and a corporation?"

After a pause Hirst remarked that the worst infamy had still to be told.
He addressed himself to Helen.

"They've hoofed out the prostitute. One night while we were away that
old numskull Thornbury was doddering about the passages very late.
(Nobody seems to have asked him what _he_ was up to.) He saw the Signora
Lola Mendoza, as she calls herself, cross the passage in her nightgown.
He communicated his suspicions next morning to Elliot, with the result
that Rodriguez went to the woman and gave her twenty-four hours in which
to clear out of the place. No one seems to have enquired into the truth
of the story, or to have asked Thornbury and Elliot what business it was
of theirs; they had it entirely their own way. I propose that we should
all sign a Round Robin, go to Rodriguez in a body, and insist upon a
full enquiry. Something's got to be done, don't you agree?"

Hewet remarked that there could be no doubt as to the lady's profession.

"Still," he added, "it's a great shame, poor woman; only I don't see
what's to be done--"

"I quite agree with you, St. John," Helen burst out. "It's monstrous.
The hypocritical smugness of the English makes my blood boil. A man
who's made a fortune in trade as Mr. Thornbury has is bound to be twice
as bad as any prostitute."

She respected St. John's morality, which she took far more seriously
than any one else did, and now entered into a discussion with him as to
the steps that were to be taken to enforce their peculiar view of what
was right. The argument led to some profoundly gloomy statements of a
general nature. Who were they, after all--what authority had they--what
power against the mass of superstition and ignorance? It was the
English, of course; there must be something wrong in the English blood.
Directly you met an English person, of the middle classes, you were
conscious of an indefinable sensation of loathing; directly you saw the
brown crescent of houses above Dover, the same thing came over you. But
unfortunately St. John added, you couldn't trust these foreigners--

They were interrupted by sounds of strife at the further end of the
table. Rachel appealed to her aunt.

"Terence says we must go to tea with Mrs. Thornbury because she's been
so kind, but I don't see it; in fact, I'd rather have my right hand sawn
in pieces--just imagine! the eyes of all those women!"

"Fiddlesticks, Rachel," Terence r