"I've got a touch of asthma--I must say what I like." Belfield humorously traded on his infirmity. "A dishonest fellow who won't pay his tradesmen, a flirtatious minx who will make mischief, a spoilt urchin who insists on doing what he shouldn't--all rather attractive, aren't they? If everybody behaved properly we should have no 'situations.' What would become of literature and the drama?" "And if nobody had any spare cash, what would become of them, either?" asked Harry. "Well, we could do with a good deal less of them. I'll go so far as to admit that," said Wellgood. Belfield laughed. "Even from Wellgood we've extracted one plea for the redistribution of wealth. A dialectical triumph! Let's leave it at that." Mrs. Belfield carried her husband off indoors; Wellgood went with them, challenging his host to a game of bezique; Harry invited Vivien to a stroll; Isobel Vintry and Andy were left together. She asked him a sudden question: "Do you think Harry Belfield a selfish man?" "Selfish! Harry? Heavens, no! He'd do anything for his friends." "I don't mean quite in that way. I daresay he would--and, of course, he's too well-mannered to be selfish about trifles. But I suppose even to ask questions about him is treason to you?" "Oh, well, a little bit," laughed Andy. "I'm an old follower, you see!" "Yes, and he thinks it natural you should be," she suggested quickly. "Well, if it is natural, why shouldn't he think so?" "It seems natural to him that he should always come first, and--and have the pick of things." "You mean he's spoilt? According to his father, that makes him more attractive." "Yes, I'm not saying it doesn't do that. Only--do you never mind it? Never mind playing second fiddle?" "Second fiddle seems rather a high position. I hardly reckon myself in the orchestra at all," he laughed. "You remember--I'm accustomed to following the hunt on foot." "While Harry Belfield rides! Yes! Vivien rides too--and doesn't like it!" She was bending forward in her chair, handsome, sumptuous in her white and gold (Wellgood had made her a present the quarter-day before), with her smile very bitter. The smile told that she spoke with a meaning more than literal. Andy surveyed, at his leisure, possible metaphorical bearings. "Oh yes, I think I see," he announced, after an interval fully perceptible. "You mean she doesn't really appreciate her advantages? By riding you mean--?" "Oh, really, Mr. Hayes!" She broke into vexed amused laughter. "I mustn't try it any more with you," she declared. "But I shall understand if you give me time to think it over," Andy protested. "Don't rush me, that's all, Miss Vintry." "As if I could rush any one or anything!" she said, handsome still, now handsomely despairing.