_Culch._ Thank you. I trust it will--er--have that effect. (_To himself, after the Young Lady has left the terrace._) Now, that's a very superior girl--she has intellect, style, culture--everything the ideal woman _should_ have. I wonder, now, whether, if I had met her before--but such speculations are most unprofitable! How clear her eyes looked through her _pince-nez_! Blue-grey, like Athene's own. If I'd been with PODBURY, I should never have had this talk. The sight of him would have repelled her at once. I shall tell him when I take him that book that he had better go his own way with his new friends. I shall spend most of to-morrow on this terrace. SCENE--_The Conversations-Saal at the Wurtemburger-Hof. Evening. PODBURY at the piano; BOB PRENDERGAST and his sister HYPATIA seated near him._ _Podb._ (_chanting dolefully_)-- Now then, this party as what came from Fla-an-ders, What had the com-plex-_i_-on rich and rare, He went and took and caught the yeller ja-aun-ders-- And his complexion isn't what it were! _Mr. and Miss Prendergast_ (_joining sympathetically in chorus_). And his complexion _isn't_ what it _were_! [_There is a faint knock at the door, and CULCHARD enters with a volume under his arm. None of the three observes him, and he stands and listens stiffly as PODBURY continues,--_ Well, next this party as what came from Fla-an-ders, Whose complex-shun was formi-ally rare, Eloped to Injia with ELIZA SA-AUN-DERS, As lived close by in Canonbury Square. _Culch._ (_advances to piano and touches PODBURY's arm with the air of his better angel_). Er--I have brought you the philosophical work I mentioned. I will leave it for an occasion when you are--er--in a fitter frame of mind for its perusal. _Podb._ Oh, beg pardon, didn't see you, old fellow. Awfully obliged; jam it down anywhere, and (_whispering_) I say, I want to introduce you to-- _Culch._ (_in a tone of emphatic disapproval_). You must really excuse me, as I fear I should be scarcely a congenial spirit in such a party. So good night--or, rather--er--good-bye. [_He withdraws._ _Miss Hypatia P._ (_just as C. is about to close the door_). Please don't stop, Mr. PODBURY, that song is quite too deliciously inane! [_CULCHARD turns as he hears the voice, and--too late--recognises his Athene of that afternoon. He retires in confusion, and, as he passes under the window, hears PODBURY sing the final verse._ The moral is--Now _don't_ you come from Fla-an-ders, If you should have complexions rich and rare; And don't you go and catch the yaller ja-aun-ders, Nor yet know girls in Canonbury Square! _Miss Hypatia P._ (_in a clear soprano_). "Nor yet know girls in Canonbury Square!" [_CULCHARD passes on, crushed._ * * * * * [Illustration: THE STERNER SEX! "HULLO, GERTY! YOU'VE GOT FRED'S HAT ON, AND HIS COVER COAT?" "YES. DON'T YOU LIKE IT?"