both ways.

Gorman, of course, was simply trying to be agreeable. I pointed
out--when I succeeded in seizing a place in the conversation--that if
Gorman's theory were applied to Ireland Belfast would come out as a
reality while Cork, Limerick, and other places like them would be as
despicable as Dorsetshire.

"Wicklow," I said, "is the playground of Ireland, and it returns nothing
but Nationalist members to Parliament. You ought not to go back on your
own side, Gorman."

Mrs. Ascher shuddered at the mention of Belfast and would not admit that
it could be as "real" as Manchester or Leeds.

Miss Gibson broke in with a reminiscence of her own. She told us that
she had been in Belfast once with a touring company, and thought it was
duller on Sunday than any other city in the British Isles.

Gorman, after winking at me, appealed to Ascher on the subject of
Belfast's prosperity. In his opinion the apparent wealth of that city is
built up on an insecure foundation of credit. There is no solidity about
it The farmers of the south and west of Ireland, on the other hand,
have real wealth, actual savings, stored up in the Post Office Banks, or
placed on deposit, in other banks, or hoarded in stockings.

Ascher was most unwilling to join in the discussion. He noticed, as I
did, that Miss Gibson's attention was wandering. In the end, goaded by
Gorman, he said that some one ought to teach the Irish farmers to invest
their savings in high class international stocks and bonds. He added
that L1 notes kept in drawers and desks are not wealth but merely frozen
potentialities of credit.

After that, conversation, as might be expected, became impossible for
some time, although Ascher apologised humbly.

Gorman restored us to cheerfulness by opening a parcel and handing
round two enormous boxes of chocolates. One box was settled on the seat
between Miss Gibson and Tim. They ate with healthy appetites and obvious
delight. When we reached Southampton that box was nearly empty and
neither of them seemed any the worse. The other box lay on Mrs. Ascher's
knee. She and I and Gorman did our best, but we did not get through the
top layer. Ascher only took one small chocolate and, when he thought no
one was looking, dropped it out of the window.

The motor yacht which Gorman had hired for us turned out to be a swift
and well-found ship with a small cabin and possibilities of comfort in a
large cockpit aft. We sped down Southampton Water, o