“Bobbie is what is known as a man of the world,” said Gordon. When Gordon introduced the virtues of his friends, he did so in the manner of a chairman at a public meeting bringing an unknown speaker to the notice of an audience. “He has a keener concept of relative social values than either I, who am a little old-fashioned, or you, my child, who have led a cloistered life. I think we can safely leave the issue in Bobbie’s hands. Now, Bobbie, I’m going to put the matter to you without prejudice. Is it right that Diana should be staying in the same house as I, without a chaperone?” “I don’t see why she should want a chaperone with a dry old stick like you,” said Bobbie instantly. “Besides, you’re cousins. She has certainly made Cheynel Gardens a place worth visiting, which it never was before.” “But the world--” protested Gordon. “The other day you were telling me how superior you were to the world and its opinions,” said the traitor Bobbie. “You told me that the views of the hoi polloi passed you by without making the least impression. You said that a man should rise superior to the test of public approval. You said----” “What I said,” snapped Gordon testily, “had a general application to certain schools of philosophical thought. It did not apply, and never will apply, to questions of behaviour and propriety.” “Diana is here, and you’re a lucky devil to have somebody to darn your socks. Does he pay you anything, Diana?” She shook her head. “I am living on my little capital,” she said plaintively, and Gordon felt a brute, but it was not until the next morning that he raised the subject again. “I’m afraid I’ve been rather thoughtless, Diana,” he said. “Will you please buy anything you want and give me a note of any money you require?” She leant back in her chair, laughing softly. “You dear goop!” she said. “Of course I don’t want money! I am rolling in riches.” “Then why did you tell Bobbie----” “I like sympathy,” she said calmly. “And nobody gives me sympathy except Eleanor. She’s rather a pretty girl, isn’t she?” “I haven’t noticed,” said Gordon. “I knew you hadn’t,” she said, “when I discovered that you’d never kissed her.” Gordon’s mouth was occupied with bacon at the moment, but he stood up and made an unearthly noise of protest. “No, I don’t ask servants such questions,” said Diana primly, “but a woman has instincts, and there’s always a way of finding these things out. Gordon, you are exonerated,” she added with a generous gesture. “Your philosophy of life is amazing,” he said, after he had recovered some of his calm. “Whatever made you think I should kiss her?” “Because she’s pretty,” said Diana. “All men want to kiss pretty girls if they’re normal. Lots of people have wanted to kiss me.” Gordon raised his eyebrows without looking up. He was not revolted; he was simply resigned. “You haven’t asked me whether I let them,” she said after waiting. “I’m not interested,” said Gordon coldly. “Not a teeny weeny bit?”