econdite political allusions. Then came one or two
couples and trios with nothing very much to say and active ears. Philip
and I brought up the rear silently and in all humility. Even young Guy
had gone over our heads. I was too full of a stupendous realization for
any words. Of course, during those years, she had been doing--no end of
things! And while I had been just drudging with lectures and books and
theorizing about the Empire and what I could do with it, and taking
exercise, she had learnt, it seemed--the World.

Sec. 10

Lunch was in the great dining-room. There was a big table and two
smaller ones; we sat down anyhow, but the first comers had grouped
themselves about Lady Ladislaw and Evesham and Justin and Mary in a
central orb, and I had to drift perforce to one of the satellites. I
secured a seat whence I could get a glimpse ever and again over Justin's
assiduous shoulders of a delicate profile, and I found myself
immediately engaged in answering the innumerable impossible questions of
Lady Viping, the widow of terrible old Sir Joshua, that devastating
divorce court judge who didn't believe in divorces. His domestic
confidences had I think corrupted her mind altogether. She cared for
nothing but evidence. She was a rustling, incessant, sandy, peering
woman with a lorgnette and rapid, confidential lisping undertones, and
she wanted to know who everybody was and how they were related. This
kept us turning towards the other tables--and when my information failed
she would call upon Sir Godfrey Klavier, who was explaining, rather
testily on account of her interruptions, to Philip Christian and a
little lady in black and the elder Fawney girl just why he didn't
believe Lady Ladislaw's new golf course would succeed. There were two or
three other casual people at our table; one of the Roden girls, a young
guardsman and, I think, some other man whom I don't clearly remember.

"And so that's the great Mr. Justin," rustled Lady Viping and stared
across me.

(I saw Evesham, leaning rather over the table to point some remark at
Mary, and noted her lips part to reply.)

"What _is_ the word?" insisted Lady Viping like a fly in my ear.

I turned on her guiltily.

"Whether it's brachy," said Lady Viping, "or whether it's dolly--_I_ can
never remember?"

I guessed she was talking of Justin's head. "Oh!--brachycephalic," I
said.

I had lost Mary's answer.

"They say he's a woman hater," said Lady Viping. "It ha