Then Lord Bletchworth drifted to them, and was tedious. Lord Bletchworth twaddled ponderously. He considered there was a lot of disgraceful bosh being printed about the Service, and the Country at large, in the papers just now. My dear sir, an Englishman who had the interests of England at heart would hold his tongue while she slid down hill, and silently watch her bump to the bottom. That wasn't how he put it, but it was the gist of what he said. He added that the battle of Waterloo had been won on the playing fields of Eton, and he seemed as satisfied with Waterloo as if it were situated in the Transvaal. However, he had his uses--he walked with his wife when they went to the Kursaal, and left Conrad with Mrs. Adaile. "How quiet you've become," she said. "I am asking myself what to say to you." "Do you find me so hard to talk to?" "I find you so hard to convince." "Why try to convince me?" "Why did I come to Ostend?" "Oh, that was a pretty tale," she said. "It wasn't true, really, was it?" "You know it was true. I've looked forward to meeting you again for years. I can't tell you how fond I was of you. You're the only woman I've ever cared for." "You were a child." "And now I'm a man--doesn't that show, doesn't it prove? Is it nothing to think of a woman so long as I've thought of you? What other man could say to you what _I_ can say?" "But you _mustn't_ say it," she smiled--it cannot be written that she "forbade." "Is your life so full," he asked, "that you have no room for my love?" "Mr. Warrener, but really----" "You hurt me," he said. "What have I done since we parted, to become 'Mr. Warrener' to you?" "Are we going to sit on the terrace," said Lord Bletchworth, looking back, "or are we going inside? Mr. Warrener, you play, perhaps?" "No," said Conrad, "I haven't played here. I don't care much about it anyhow." "Let's sit down outside," said Lady Bletchworth. "It's so hot in there."