_Spurrell (to himself)._ Formidable old party opposite me in the furs! Nice-looking girl over in the corner; not a patch on my EMMA, though! Wonder why I catch 'em sampling me over their papers whenever I look up! Can't be anything wrong with my turn out. Why, of course, they heard TOM talk about my going down to Wyvern Court; think I'm a visitor there and no end of a nob! Well, what snobs some people are, to be sure! _Lady Cantire (to herself)._ So this is the young poet I made ALBINIA ask to meet me. I can't be mistaken, I distinctly heard his friend mention _Andromeda_. H'm, well, it's a comfort to find he's _clean!_ Have I read his poetry or not? I know I _had_ the book, because I distinctly remember telling MAISIE she wasn't to read it--but--well, that's of no consequence. He looks clever and quite respectable--not in the least picturesque--which is fortunate. I was beginning to doubt whether it was quite prudent to bring MAISIE; but I needn't have worried myself. _Lady Maisie (to herself)._ Here, actually in the same carriage! Does he guess who _I_ am? Somehow----Well, he certainly _is_ different from what I expected. I thought he would show more signs of having thought and suffered; for he _must_ have suffered to write as he does. If Mamma knew I had read his poems; that I had actually written to beg him not to refuse Aunt ALBINIA'S invitation! He never wrote back. Of course I didn't put my address; but still, he could have found out from the Red Book if he'd cared. I'm rather glad now he _didn't_ care. _Spurr. (to himself)._ Old girl seems as if she meant to be sociable; better give her an opening. (_Aloud._) Hem! would you like the window down an inch or two? _Lady Cant._ Not on _my_ account, thank you. _Spurr. (to himself)._ Broke the ice, anyway. (_Aloud._) Oh, _I_ don't want it down, but some people are fond of fresh air. _Lady Cant. (with a dignified little shiver)._ With a temperature as glacial as it is in here! Surely not! _Spurr._ Well, it _is_ chilly; been raw all day. (_To himself._) She don't answer. I _haven't_ broken the ice. [_He produces a memorandum book._ _Lady Maisie (to herself)._ He hasn't said anything _very_ original yet. So _nice_ of him not to pose! Oh, he's got a note-book; he's going to compose a poem. How interesting! [Illustration: "He's going to compose a poem. How interesting!"] _Spurr. (to himself)._ Yes, I'm all right if _Voluptuary_ wins the Lincolnshire Handicap; lucky to get on at the price I did. When will the weights come out for the City and Suburban? Let's see whether the Pink 'Un has anything about it. [_He refers to the "Sporting Times."_ _Lady Maisie (to herself)._ The inspiration's stopped--_what_ a pity! How odd of him to read the _Globe_! I thought he was a Democrat!