Joe returned with a bland, blank face. He did not give a hang about them, Wilfred saw; indeed, he had probably recalled Wilfred to mind only with difficulty. But his politeness was perfect. It was Joe who saved the face of the situation. “Beekman tells me there’s a report going the rounds that the suffragettes tried to blow up the Houses of Parliament, and that the news was suppressed.” Wilfred was grateful. He had to confess to himself that polite people have their uses. “Good Heavens!” said Frances Mary. “Do you suppose it’s true?” Joe shrugged. “It amuses people to pass these stories round.” “Well, I hope they did!” said Frances Mary. Wilfred stared. Could this be his Fanny? Joe smiled deprecatingly. “I approve of their cause, but hardly of their methods,” he said. “Perhaps they are the only effective methods,” said Frances Mary. “Oh, Englishmen could not possibly give in to intimidation,” said Joe. “We shall see,” said Frances Mary, smiling back. Elaine had scarcely listened to this. She was bent like a child on making friends. She said to Joe: “Mr. Pell is a writer, you remember.” “Ah,” said Joe. “I had forgotten. . . . What is your line, Pell?” “Fiction,” said Wilfred. It struck him that there was something deliciously appropriate in the word. It was his little private joke. No other eye betrayed any consciousness of it. “I control several fiction magazines,” said Joe, with his deprecatory air. “You must submit your stories to my editors.” Frances Mary was on the verge of an ironic speech here, but Wilfred managed to divert it with a warning touch of his foot under the table. “Thanks, I will,” he said pleasantly to Joe. “What are the children’s names?” Elaine asked of Frances Mary. “Mary, Constance, and Stephen.” “I like those names. Mary, I suppose, is . . .” “Six.” “The same age as my Sturges. . . . I wish you’d come to see me some day, Mrs. Pell. And bring Mary. I mean it. Shall I write and set a day?” “Oh, thanks,” said Frances Mary, with a sky-like candor; “I should like to come ever so much; but I’m afraid it will be impossible. We live in Rockland County, you see; and I have no nurse. My days in town are few and far between.” Wilfred gritted his teeth. Ah well, one had to endure these things. Frances Mary’s spirit was admirable; but why need she have rebuffed the generous Elaine? “I could send a car out to get you,” suggested Elaine. “You are too kind! I have made it a rule never to go visiting with the children while they are small.” Upon that Wilfred saw that Elaine gave up. “I’m so sorry!” she said, resuming her usual unconcerned surface. Meanwhile Joe, out of politeness, was telling Wilfred the latest news of the government’s Philippine policy, in which Wilfred was not the least interested. Presently Elaine arose. “We must be getting on to our friends. So glad to have run into you. Good-bye. . . . Good-bye, Wilfred.”