By this time they were walking up the avenue to the house, and on the terrace they met their hostess, already dressed and waiting for them. “Ah, you philosophers!” said she. “You must make haste. By the way, you know I count upon you, Mr. Holyoke, for our coaching party! Mr. Derwent has already promised.” Arthur was, of course, delighted. “I am so glad----” he began. “There, there,” said she, “you must run and dress or you will be late to dinner. And Mr. Sewall is very particular about his dinners, I know.” After Derwent’s outburst, Arthur went in to his dinner with some trepidation; but Derwent had too often dined and lodged with Arab chieftains, or other persons who had designs upon his life the next morning, to show his personal feelings in his demeanor. Arthur took in Miss Duval; and she asked him if he had been invited on the coaching party. She was going, and Mrs. Hay, and Kitty Farnum. Mrs. Malgam had not been asked, after all. “She is perfectly furious,” said Pussie; “and wanted to go home to-night.” And Arthur himself felt a slight pang at the absence of his fair companion, such a mitigated pang as one must feel at the exclusion of others from a paradise open to one’s self. “What men are going?” he asked. “Oh, Lord Birmingham, and Mr. Wemyss, and Mr. Van Kull--and--and Mr. ----” “Derwent,” said Arthur. “I know.” “Mr. Derwent? dear me,” said Miss Duval. “I wonder what he’s going for!” “But where’s Mr. Gower?” asked Arthur. “I don’t know,” said she. “He can’t come, I believe. Kill Van Kull is going to drive.” “You can’t fancy what terrible things Mr. Derwent has been telling us, Mr. Sewall. We quite needed you last night. He has been saying we are none of us Christians.” It was Mrs. Malgam who spoke. “We are not,” said Sewall. “Christianity is a very fine thing; but, like many another, quite too fine for this world. If people could practise it, there would be no need of it; it would be heaven here and now, and a divine revelation quite superfluous.” “And are you really going to drive, Mr. Van Kull?” said Mrs. Hay. “You are such a dangerous man, I shall not trust myself with you--on the box-seat.” And she cast down her eyes, while Van Kull gave her one of the dark glances that made his pale face so famous. “Would you confess as much in your paper, Mr. Sewall?” said Derwent, in answer to his speech. “Certainly not,” said the great editor. “You know the natural failing of the middle classes is hypocrisy; and we still have a large constituency with them. They like to think they are Christians, while they make their money; just as they like to have full reports of divorce cases, and call it news.” “Hypocrisy, in the end, is of all vices the one least suffered by gods and men,” said Derwent.