It struck me even then that the moment Mrs. Cunningham's name was introduced there was introduced also something of that sex-antagonism--perhaps I had better modify that and say sex-difference--for which her personal story had given her such bitter reason. Here now was Mollie, suddenly and in the middle of our _tête-à-tête_, abolishing me as an individual and saddling me with the collective qualities of men in general. And I must remind you once more that as a matter of mere historical sequence I was still unaware of what had passed between her and Philip on that night when she had put Audrey Cunningham to bed, and Monty had spent half the night in wandering through the dark Roehampton lanes. "Well, let's take it that we're funny," I said rather shortly. "I don't quite see the joke myself, but that's neither here nor there. The point is that if I can do Monty a good turn I want to. Whether patching it up between him and Mrs. Cunningham is a good turn is for you to decide. I only met her once in my life, and hardly exchanged a dozen words with her." "You shall presently if I can lay my hands on her." "What do you mean? That you're going to have her down here?" "Of course I'm going to have her down here if she can come," said Mollie in her most matter-of-fact tones. "How slowly you think! She must come immediately. I shall see about it this afternoon _même_." "And Rooke too?" "We'll see about that." "And Hubbard? And Mackwith?" "No. What have they got to do with it?" "Merely to make the party complete. We should be just where we started then." "Oh, I think we can dispense with that side of it," she answered lightly. "Let me see: was it Harrogate? It was Buxton, and then Matlock, and then either Harrogate or Scarboro...."