‘I think you ought to laugh very often, and loud enough for all the world to hear,’ replied Gaston. ‘Doctor Thorne is too much for me; I have an old “Sandford and Merton” among my books, and when I hear him talk, I think of Mr. Barlow moralising at Tommy. Mr. Barlow turned scientist. “Grant as a postulate that the magnitudes we call molecules are realities ...” “Evolution teaches us that these bright blooms ...” etc. Dr. Thorne’s flower-show speech! We had it last autumn with the dahlias. We had it in the spring with the tulips. I heard him addressing it just now to that poor small boy, Lord Rex. Mrs. Corbie is orthodox to the core. I suppose he will make a big jump, as they do over the words in plays, when he gets to anything so brimstony as “evolution.”’ The crowd, as it happened, was setting in the direction of the Tintajeux roses. By the time Gaston and Marjorie had made their way into front places before the stand, they discovered that Dinah and Lord Rex Basire had parted company from them in the crowd. ‘I brought Mrs. Arbuthnot here. It was through my persuasion she laid down her cross-stitch,’ cried Marjorie, ‘and now we have let her fall victim to Lord Rex. How wearied she will be of him!’ ‘I am not so sure of that. My wife has the old-fashioned weaknesses of the sex. The sight of a wounded soldier is dear to her. All women, at heart, are thoroughgoing Jingoites.’ ‘I am not! I am an ultra, red-hot Radical,’ exclaimed Marjorie. ‘As to Lord Rex--I believe his wound was well long ago. He wears his arm in a sling to get up sympathy.’ ‘It will secure Mrs. Arbuthnot’s,’ said Gaston. Then: ‘What a world of good it will do my wife to have been here,’ he added warmly. ‘That is just what poor Dinah needs, to come out more, mix more with her fellow-creatures, brighten up her ideas; to lay down her cross-stitch, in short. That hits the nail on the head--to lay down her cross-stitch! It was charming of you to call on us, Miss Bartrand! I take it for granted, you see, that you have called. You heard of our existence probably from Geff?’ ‘I heard from Mr. Geoffrey that Mrs. Arbuthnot was staying at Miller’s Hotel.’ But Marjorie’s voice faltered. Her soul clothed itself in sackcloth and ashes as she thought of her own error, of the _generous_, _delicate_ motives which had prompted her--Pharisee that she was!--to call on Dinah. ‘Whatever Geff does comes to good. He cannot take a mile-long walk without some man or woman being the better for it. Geff has a kind of genius for bringing about the welfare of other people.’ At the mention of Geoffrey every artificial trace left Gaston’s manner. The best of the man showed always, no matter how trifling the occasion, in the honest regard he bore his cousin. ‘Now, look, Miss Bartrand, at the way Geff is spending his time in this island!’