.

"We do a great deal too much, aunt," she said. "I am almost coming round
to my father's opinion. You know, Mr. Maddison, he very seldom comes to
London, and then only when he wants to pay a visit to his gunmaker, or
to renew his hunting kit, or something of that sort. London life does
not suit him at all."

"I think your father a very wise man," he answered. "He seeks his
pleasures in a more wholesome manner."

She looked thoughtful.

"Yes, I suppose, ethically, the life of a man about town is on a very
low level. That is why one meets so few who interest one, as a rule.
Don't you think all this society life very frivolous, Mr. Maddison?"

"I am not willing to be its judge," he answered. "Yet it is a moral
axiom that the higher we seek for our pleasures the greater happiness we
attain to. I am an uncompromising enemy to what is known as fashionable
society, so I will draw no conclusions."

"It is intellect and artistic sensibility _versus_ sensuousness," yawned
Lady Thurwell. "I'm a weak woman, and I'm afraid I'm too old to change
my ways. But I'm on the wrong side of the argument all the same; at
least, I should be if I took up the cudgels."

"Which are the greater sinners, Mr. Maddison?" asked Helen, smiling,
"men of the world or women of the world?"

"Without doubt, men," he answered quickly. "However we may talk about
the equality of the sexes, the fact remains that women are born into the
world with lighter natures than men. They have at once a greater
capacity, and more desire for amusement pure and simple. They wear
themselves out in search of it, more especially the women of other
nations. And after all, when their life has passed, they have never
known the meaning of real happiness, of the pleasures that have no
reaction, and that sweet elevation of mind that is only won by thought
and study."

"Poor women!" murmured Lady Thurwell. "Mr. Maddison, you are making me
quite uncomfortable. Paint my sex in more glowing colors, please, or
leave them alone. Remember that I am the only middle-aged woman here. I
don't count Helen at all. I see that she is something of your way of
thinking already. Traitress! Do light a cigarette, Mr. Maddison. I adore
the perfume of them, and so does Helen."

He took one from the box she passed him, and gravely lit it. They were
doing everything in a very informal manner. Dinner had been served in
the library, a cozy little apartment with a large open grate in which a
che