“That is perhaps a fault of the Englishman. But we must remember that still waters run deep.” “Do you think so? But if they don’t run at all?” “How do you mean?” “There is such a thing as the village pond.” “How very trying she is this afternoon!” thought poor Braybrooke, endeavouring mentally to pull up his socks. “I half promised Craven the other day,” he lied, resolutely ignoring her unkind comparison of his protege to the abomination which is too often veiled with duckweed, “to contrive another meeting between you and him. But I fear he has bored you. And in that case perhaps I ought not to hold to my promise. You meet so many brilliant Frenchmen that I dare say our slower, but really I sometimes think deeper, mentality scarcely appeals to you.” (At this point he saw Fanny Cronin leaning impressively towards Mrs. Clem Hodson, as if about to impart some very secret information to that lady, who bent to receive it.) “Again those deep waters!” said Miss Van Tuyn, this time with unmistakable satire. “But perhaps you are right. I remember a very brilliant American, who knew practically all the nations of Europe, telling me that in his opinion you English were the subtlest--I’m afraid he was rude enough to say the most artful--of the lot.” As she spoke the word “artful” her fine eyes smiled straight into Braybrooke’s, and she pinched her red lips together very expressively. “But I must confess,” she added, “that at the moment we were discussing diplomats.” “Artful was rather unkind,” murmured Braybrooke. “I--I hope you don’t think my friend Craven is one of that type?” “Oh, I wasn’t thinking of Mr. Craven.” The implication was fairly obvious, and Braybrooke did not miss it, although he was not in possession of his full mental powers. “Perhaps it is our own fault,” he said. “But I think we English are often misunderstood.” As he spoke he shot a rather poignant glance in the direction of Fanny Cronin, who had now finished her tea, and was gathering her fur cloak about her as if in preparation for departure. “In fact,” he added, “I am sure of it. This very day even--” He paused, wondering how to put it, yet feeling that he really must at all costs make matters fairly clear to his companion. “Yes?” said Miss Van Tuyn sweetly. “To-day, this afternoon, I think that your dear Miss Cronin failed once or twice to grasp my full meaning when I was talking with her.” “Oh, Fanny! But she’s an old fool! Of course she’s a dear, and I’m very fond of her, but she is essentially nebulous. And what was it that you think she misunderstood?” Braybrooke hesitated. It really was very difficult to put what he wanted to say into words. Scarcely ever before had he felt himself so incapable of dealing adequately with a socially awkward situation. If only he knew what Miss Cronin had said to Miss Van Tuyn while he was ordering tea!