_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself, with a little shiver_). Oh, why does he--why _does_ he? (_Aloud._) I should have thought that, until war itself is an anachronism, men who are willing to fight and die for their country could never be quite unnecessary. But we won't discuss Captain Thicknesse, particularly now that he has left Wyvern. Suppose we go back to Mr. Spurrell. I know, of course, that, in leaving him in ignorance as you did, you acted from the best and highest motives; but still---- _Undershell._ It is refreshing to be so thoroughly understood! I think I know what your "but still" implies--why did I not foresee that he would infallibly betray himself before long? I _did_. But I gave him credit for being able to sustain his part for another hour or two--until I had gone, in fact. _Lady Maisie._ Then you didn't wish to spare _his_ feelings as well as ours? _Undershell._ To be quite frank, I didn't trouble myself about him: my sole object was to retreat with dignity; he had got himself somehow or other into a false position he must get out of as best he could. After all, he would be none the worse for having filled _my_ place for a few hours. _Lady Maisie_ (_slowly_). I see. It didn't matter to you whether he was suspected of being an impostor, or made to feel uncomfortable, or--or anything. Wasn't that a little unfeeling of you? _Undershell._ Unfeeling! I allowed him to keep my evening clothes, which is more than a good many---- _Lady Maisie._ At all events, he may have had to pay more heavily than you imagine. I wonder whether---- But I suppose anything so unromantic as the love affairs of a veterinary surgeon would have no interest for you? _Undershell._ Why not, Lady Maisie? To the Student of Humanity, and still more to the Poet, the humblest love-story may have its interesting--even its suggestive--aspect. _Lady Maisie._ Well, I may tell you that it seems Mr. Spurrell has long been attached, if not actually engaged, to a maid of mine. _Undershell_ (_startled out of his self-possession_). You--you don't mean to Miss Phillipson? _Lady Maisie._ That _is_ her name. How very odd that you---- But perhaps Mr. Spurrell mentioned it to you last night? _Undershell_ (_recovering his sangfroid_). I am hardly likely to have heard of it from any other quarter. _Lady Maisie._ Of course not. And did he tell you that she was here, in this very house? _Undershell._ No, he never mentioned _that_. What a remarkable coincidence! _Lady Maisie._ Yes, rather. The worst of it is that the foolish girl seems to have heard that he was a guest here, and have jumped to the conclusion that he had ceased to care for her; so she revenged herself by a desperate flirtation with some worthless wretch she met in the housekeeper's room, whose flattery and admiration, I'm very much afraid, have completely turned her head!