“It was the first time I had seen Pierre for years. They fixed me up, and we started south. And that’s as it was in the beginning with Mr. John Vandewaters and me.” Lady Lawless had been watching the two strangers during the talk, though once or twice she turned and looked at her husband admiringly. When he had finished she said: “That is very striking. What a pity it is that men we want to like spoil all by their lack of form!” “Don’t be so sure about Vandewaters. Does he look flurried by these surroundings?” “No. He certainly has an air of contentment. It is, I suppose, the usual air of self-made Americans.” “Go to London, E.C., and you will find the same, plus smugness. Now, Mr. Vandewaters has real power--and taste too, as you will see. Would you think Mr. Stephen Pride a self-made man?” “I cannot think of any one else who would be proud of the patent. Please to consider the seals about his waistcoat, and the lady-like droop of his shoulders.” “Yet he is thought to be a young man of parts. He has money, made by his ancestors; he has been round the world; he belongs to societies for culture and--” “And he will rave of the Poet’s Corner, ask if one likes Pippa Passes, and expect to be introduced to every woman in the room at a tea-party, to say nothing of proposing impossible things, such as taking one’s girl friends to the opera alone, sending them boxes of confectionery, and writing them dreadfully reverential notes at the same time. Duke, the creature is impossible, believe me. Never, never, if you love me, invite him to Craigruie. I met one of his tribe at Lady Macintyre’s when I was just out of school; and at the dinner-table, when the wine went round, he lifted his voice and asked for a cup of tea, saying he never ‘drank.’ Actually he did, Duke.” Her husband laughed quietly. He had a man’s enjoyment of a woman’s dislike of bad form. “A common criminal man, Molly. Tell me, which is the greater crime: to rob a bank or use a fish-knife for asparagus?” Lady Lawless fanned herself. “Duke, you make me hot. But if you will have the truth: the fish-knife business by all means. Nobody need feel uncomfortable about the burglary, except the burglar; but see what a position for the other person’s hostess.” “My dear, women have no civic virtues. Their credo is, ‘I believe in beauty and fine linen, and the thing that is not gauche.’” His wife was smiling. “Well, have it your own way. It is a creed of comfort, at any rate. And now, Duke, if I must meet the man of mines and railways and the spare person making faces at Lord Hampstead, let it be soon, that it may be done with; and pray don’t invite them to Craigruie till I have a chance to speak with you again. I will not have impossible people at a house-party.” “What a difficult fellow your husband is, Molly!” “Difficult; but perfectly possible. His one fault is a universal sympathy which shines alike on the elect--and the others.”