“You are quite sure you want me to come?” said Harriet suspiciously. “Why, if you won’t come, I shall ask Lovat--dear Lovat, by the happiest fluke in the world not Lovelace--to let me stay here to tea, dinner, or supper--that is, to the next meal, whatever name it may bear.” At this Harriet disappeared to put on a proper dress. “We will go as soon as you are ready,” called Kangaroo. “We can all squeeze into that automobile at your gate.” When Harriet reappeared the men rose. Kangaroo looked at her with admiration. “What a remarkably beautiful person you are,” he said. “But mind, I don’t say _woman_. _Dio liberi!_” He scuttled hurriedly to the door. They had a gay dinner. Kangaroo wasn’t really witty. But he had such an innocent charm, an extraordinary winsomeness, that it was much more delicious than wit. His presence was so warm. You felt you were cuddled cosily, like a child, on his breast, in the soft glow of his heart, and that your feet were nestling on his ample, beautiful “tummy.” “I wonder you were never married,” said Harriet to him. “I’ve been married several times,” he replied. “Really!” she cried. “First to Benny Cooley--then to immortal verse--after that to the law--once to a haughty lady--and now I’m wedded to my ideals. This time it is final. I don’t take another wife.” “I don’t care about the rest. But were you ever married, really?” “To a woman? A mere woman? Why, yes indeed. A young Baroness too. And after seven months she told me she couldn’t stand me for another minute, and went off with Von Rumpeldorf.” “Is it true?” “Quite true.” “And is there still a Mrs Kangaroo?” “Alas, no! Like the unicorn, the family knows no female.” “But why couldn’t she stand you?” cried Harriet. “Think of it now. Could _any_ woman stand me?” he asked, with a slight shrug. “I should have thought they’d have _adored_ you,” she cried. “Of course they do. They can’t stand me, though. And I thoroughly sympathise with them.” Harriet looked at him thoughtfully. “Yes,” she said slowly. “You’re too much like Abraham’s bosom. One would feel nowhere.” Kangaroo threw down his napkin and pushed back his chair and roared with laughter--roared and roared with laughter. The Chinese man-servant stood back perturbed. Harriet went very red--the dinner waited. Then suddenly he became quiet, looking comically at Harriet, and still sitting back from table. Then he opened his arms and held them outstretched, his head on one side. “The way to nowhere,” he said, ironically. She did not say any more, and he turned to the man-servant. “My glass is empty, John,” he said. “Ah, well,” he sighed, “if you please one woman you can’t please all women.” “And you must please all women,” said Harriet, thoughtfully. “Yes, perhaps you must. Perhaps it is your mission.”