t work. The stokers of life should first fit
themselves to be foremen before they shout."

Then, as Lady Ethelrida looked very grave, and Francis Markrute was
really a whimsical person, and seldom talked so seriously to women, he
went on, smiling,

"The only really perfect governments in the world are those of the Bees,
and Ants, because they are both ruled with ruthless discipline and no
sentiment, and every individual knows his place!"

"I read once, somewhere, that it has been discovered," said Lady
Ethelrida gently--she never laid down the law--"that the reason why the
wonderful Greeks came to an end was not really because their system of
government was not a good one, but because the mosquitoes came and gave
them malaria, and enervated them and made them feeble, and so they could
not stand against the stronger peoples of the North. Perhaps," she went
on, "England has got some moral malarial mosquitoes and the scientists
have not yet discovered the proper means for their annihilation."

Here Tristram who overheard this interrupted:

"And it would not be difficult to give the noisome insects their English
names, would it, Francis? Some of them are in the cabinet."

And the three laughed. But Lady Ethelrida wanted to hear something more
from her left-hand neighbor, so she said,

"Then the inference to be drawn from what you have said is--we should
aim at making conditions so that it is possible for every individual to
have the chance to make himself practically--not theoretically--fit for
anything his soul aspires to. Is that it?"

"Absolutely in a nutshell, dear lady," Francis Markrute said, and for a
minute he looked into her eyes with such respectful, intense admiration
that Lady Ethelrida looked away.

CHAPTER XXIII

In the white drawing-room, afterwards, Lady Highford was particularly
gushing to the new bride. She came with a group of other women to
surround her, and was so playful and charming to all her friends! She
must be allowed to sit next to Zara, because, she said, "Your husband
and I are such very dear, old friends. And how lovely it is to think
that now he will be able to reopen Wrayth! Dear Lady Tancred is so
glad," she purred.

Zara just looked at her politely. What a done-up ferret woman! she
thought. She had met many of her tribe. At the rooms at Monte Carlo, and
in another class and another race, they were the kind who played in the
smallest stakes themselves, and often snatched