"He was sent for about his wretched canal," explained Connie. "But he saw me off at Waterloo, and promised to come down on Monday if he could get away." "Is it the first time you have been parted?" asked Lady Adela. "Yes," said Connie, in quite a small voice. Her hostess, suddenly human, patted her hand. "The time will soon pass, dear," she said. "You will find this house quiet but soothing. I like it much better than town myself. Mr. Mainwaring is no trouble, and things are so cheap. The only drawback is Sylvia. She dislikes the people about here." "By the way," enquired Connie, recovering her spirits, "what is Sylvia’s exact _line_ just at present? Last year it was slumming; the year before it was poker-work, and the year before that it was Christian Science. What does that sage-green gown mean? Don’t tell me she has become a Futurist, or a Post-Impressionist, or anything!" "I never attempt," replied Lady Adela, closing her eyes resignedly, "to cope with Sylvia’s hobbies. At present she is a Socialist of some kind. She is evolving a scheme, I believe, under which the masses and classes are to intermarry for the next twenty years. By that time, she considers, social distinctions will have ceased to exist, and consequently the social problem will have solved itself." Mrs. Carmyle nodded her head comprehendingly. "I see," she said, "it sounds a good idea. I shall start looking out in the ’Morning Post’ for the announcement of Sylvia’s engagement to a plumber. Just half a cup more, please." Lady Adela now decided to begin the cosy chat. She accordingly discharged what is known on rifle-ranges as a sighting shot. "By the way, dear Constance, have you and your husband seen much of Dick lately?" "Oh, we meet him about occasionally," replied Connie, casting about for cover--"at parties, and so on." "I fear," continued Lady Adela, with what the police call "intent," "that the poor boy is lonely." "The last time I saw him," replied Connie, "he was entertaining five people to luncheon at the Trocadero. He did n’t _look_ lonely." "There is a loneliness of spirit, dear," replied Lady Adela gently, "of which some of us know nothing. I think it shows that Dick _must_ be feeling lonely if he requires no less than five people to cheer him up." "I am sure you are right," said the obliging Mrs. Carmyle. "Was Norah Puncheon of the party, by any chance?" enquired Lady Adela carelessly. "No. I did n’t know any of the people. Is Norah a friend of Dicky’s?" "They have seen a good deal of one another of late, I believe," replied the diplomatic Lady Adela, much as a motorist with his radiator full of feathers might admit having recently noticed a hen somewhere. "Constance dear," she continued, coming in her maternal solicitude quite prematurely to the point, "you are always so discreet. It is high time Dick was married, and this time I really do think--no, I _feel_ it instinctively--that Norah Puncheon is the right woman for him."