Glenn had just captured Ariel’s queen, but for all that his smile as he barged into the conversation at this point was a sardonic smile. “Hadn’t you got Mother doped out for yourself, Scribbler?” he asked his friend. “Pity to make her do it for you! Bad commentary on your analytical powers. Couldn’t you see, at first sight, that she is one of those simple souls who believe that this jazz-ridden world is as sound at bottom, possibly sounder, than the lost world of the Good Queen Vic? It has invented virtues, not lost them. Who ever heard of frankness, honesty, hatred of shams before our somber decade? We’re less prudish, of course, but all the more wholesome for precisely that reason. And though somewhat obscured by the camouflage of ‘petting,’ purity still reigns supreme in girlish hearts, and honor in manly breasts. At least in the best families—like ours. Your own novel is only an example, Prescott. Its obscenity is healthy obscenity. By showing up the visible and ugly, you suggest all the more vividly the lovely idealism lurking under it all, invisible. Didn’t Stephen, in the end, after his diverting but possibly sordid passional experiences, fall in love, in the last chapters, with a nice girl? He seduced her, of course, but it woke her stupid parents up to the facts of—er—_life_. It’s a very idealistic book. Even the old folks got saved. They saw how narrow they’d been—” “Oh, chuck it, Glenn! I’m in perfect sympathy with your mother. And I believe—in fact, I believe it passionately—that she is right. What is moderation and self-control but aristocracy? Our Bohemian pose is too cheap, too easy. What do you think, Anne?” What Anne thought no one but Enderly discovered, however, for it was conveyed to him very simply by the throbbing of a pulse in a delicate, blue-veined wrist. At that moment Miss Peters surprisingly made an appearance in the library door. “Mrs. Weyman Senior would be charmed if Miss Clare would care to come up to her for a little while this evening.” Ariel sprang from the divan. “Oh, do you mind, Glenn? I do want to go.” “Mind!” Glenn exclaimed. “That wouldn’t matter. The Queen has sent her command. And the elevator waits without. I say! I thought you enjoyed chess, though!” Mrs. Weyman beckoned Ariel to her side. “I’m afraid Miss Peters has told Grandam about—our being in the apartment this afternoon, and that is why she has sent for you. I’m sorry. Don’t do anything to excite her unnecessarily, will you, and come away as soon as you can.” Then, turning to Miss Peters, who stood waiting to escort Ariel to the elevator, she asked, “How is Mrs. Weyman to-night? I hope the drive didn’t tire her too much.” “She is a little tired. But I don’t think it was the drive.” Miss Peters was looking curiously at Ariel. “I don’t think she’ll keep Miss Clare long. She ought to be in bed this minute.” The elevator was waiting for them at the end of the back hall. Miss Peters ran it very nonchalantly by a mere touching of buttons.