_Lady Culverin._ Wasn't it? She thought it might be a valuable experience for him; he's sprung, I believe, from _quite_ the middle-class. _Sir Rupert._ Don't see myself why he should be sprung on _us_. Why can't Rohesia ask him to one of her own places? _Lady Culverin._ I dare say she will, if he turns out to be quite presentable. And, of course, he _may_, Rupert, for anything we can tell. _Sir Rupert._ Then you've never seen him yourself! How did you manage to ask him here, then? _Lady Culverin._ Oh, I wrote to him through his publishers. Rohesia says that's the usual way with literary persons one doesn't happen to have met. And he wrote to say he would come. _Sir Rupert._ So we're to have a morbid revolutionary poet staying in the house, are we? He'll come down to dinner in a flannel shirt and no tie--or else a _red_ one--if he don't bring down a beastly bomb and try to blow us all up! You'll find you've made a mistake, Albinia, depend upon it. _Lady Culverin._ Dear Rupert, aren't you just a little bit _narrow_? You forget that nowadays the very best houses are proud to entertain Genius--no matter _what_ their opinions and appearance may be. And besides, we don't know what changes may be coming. Surely it is wise and prudent to conciliate the clever young men who might inflame the masses against us. Rohesia thinks so; she says it may be our only chance of stemming the rising tide of Revolution, Rupert! _Sir Rupert._ Oh, if Rohesia thinks a revolution can be stemmed by asking a few poets down from Saturday to Monday, she might do _her_ share of the stemming at all events. _Lady Culverin._ But you will be _nice_ to him, Rupert, won't you? _Sir Rupert._ I don't know that I'm in the habit of being uncivil to any guest of yours in this house, my dear, but I'll be hanged if I _grovel_ to him, you know; the tide ain't as high as all that. But it's an infernal nuisance, 'pon my word it is; you must look after him yourself. _I_ can't. I don't know what to talk to geniuses about; I've forgotten all the poetry I ever learnt. And if he comes out with any of his Red Republican theories in _my_ hearing, why---- _Lady Culverin._ Oh, but he _won't_, dear. I'm certain he'll be quite mild and inoffensive. Look at Shakespeare--the bust, I mean--and _he_ began as a poacher! _Sir Rupert._ Ah, and this chap would put down the Game Laws if he could, I dare say; do away with everything that makes the country worth living in. Why, if he had his way, Albinia, there wouldn't be---- _Lady Culverin._ I know, dear, I know. And you must make him see all that from _your_ point. Look, the weather really seems to be clearing a little. We might all of us get out for a drive or something after lunch. I would ride, if Deerfoot's all right again; he's the only horse I ever feel _really_ safe upon, now.