"And what's more, she's going to give you a hard slap the first chance." Over the line her voice took on an uncertain tone. "Of course I know you're exaggerating frightfully but--" "As regards Launcelot, you couldn't exaggerate. He confounds the powers of description. He baffles the most inventive imagination. He--" "Oh, do listen! All at once I'm beginning to worry about Norah. I hadn't thought of her until right now." "What of Norah?" "Well, from what you say and even making allowances for your romancing, this man must be very English. And Norah's so--so Irish. Delia is, too, for that matter. But especially Norah." "Strange, but I had noticed that myself about our Norah." "Notice it?--I should say. She calls the English--what is it she calls them?" "Black-and-Tans. Also Saxon oppressors. Also a name which is pronounced by hissing first and then gritting the teeth in a bitter manner. I think it's an old Gaelic word signifying Oliver Cromwell. You may recall having heard that Norah has a brother who had some personal misunderstanding with the authorities in Dublin in the year 1916. He became at that time very seriously antagonized toward them. And it looks to me as though Norah was inclined to take sides in the controversy." "Naturally. But she may make trouble. I hadn't thought of that before. And if he should happen to do anything or say anything to arouse her or if she should take one of her grudges against Mr. Boyce-Upchurch--oh, I'm scared, Oliver!" "Prithee be blithe and gay. Norah and I understand each other. We have a bond between us or will have one as soon as I tell her privately that I'm contributing to a fund for financing an uprising on the part of those poor down-trodden Hindus. Immediately on my arrival this evening I'll take Norah apart and--" "You'll do what?" "Don't worry. I'm going to put her back together again, so you'd never notice it. But I'll take her apart and beg her for my sake to remain calm, cool, and collected. You leave Norah to me." "I suppose I'll have to; there's nothing else to be done. And, Oliver, you may be a born idiot but just the same you're a dear for going to all this trouble on my account and I do appreciate it. There--I'm throwing you a kiss by wire." "Kindly confine yourself to appreciating Launcelot--that, God wot, will be reward enough for me, fond heart. And in case either our butler or our guest, or both of them, should desire to call the tenants in from the estate, all to stand and join in singing the Royal Anthem, please remember how it goes--God Save the King until Norah's Brother Can Get at Him!" * * * * *