He marched in his young way across to the switches and set the room in the blaze he loved. My crick of the conscience was followed by an impulse of resentment. He took it for granted that his will was law in the house. He swaggered around the room with a proprietary air. He threw in the casual “Lola” as if he owned her. Dale is the most delightful specimen of the modern youth of my acquaintance. But even Dale, with all his frank charm of manner, has the modern youth's offhand way with women. I often wonder how women abide it. But they do, more shame to them, and suffer more than they realise by their indulgence. When next I meet Maisie Ellerton I will read her a wholesome lecture, for her soul's good, on the proper treatment a self-respecting female should apply to the modern young man. Dale filled the room with his clear young laugh, and turned on every light in the place. Lola and I exchanged glances--she had adopted her usual lazy pantherine attitude in the armchair--and her glance was not that of a happy woman to whom a longed-for lover had unexpectedly come. Its real significance I could not divine, but it was more wistful than merely that of a fellow-conspirator. “By George!” cried Dale, pulling up a chair by Lola's side, and stretching out his long, well-trousered legs in front of the fire. “It's good to come back to civilisation and a Christian language and a fireside--and other things,” he added, squeezing Lola's hand. “If only it had not been for this horrible news about you, dear old man----” “Oh, do forget it and give me a little peace!” I cried. “Why have you come back all of a sudden?” “The Wymington people wired for me. It seems the committee are divided between me and Sir Gerald Macnaughton.” “He has strong claims,” said I. “He has been Mayor of the place and got knighted by mistake. He also gives large dinners and wears a beautiful diamond pin.” “I believe he goes to bed in it. Oh, he's an awful ass! It was he who said at a public function 'The Mayor of Wymington must be like Caesar's wife--all things to all men!' Oh, he's a colossal ass! And his conceit! My word!” “You needn't expatiate on it,” said I. “I who speak have suffered much at the hands of Sir Gerald Macnaughton.” “If he did get into Parliament he'd expect an armchair to be put for him next to the Speaker. Really, Lola, you never saw such a chap. If there was any one else up against me I wouldn't mind. Anyway, I'm running down to Wymington to-morrow to interview the committee. And if they choose me, then it'll be a case of 'Lord don't help me and don't help the b'ar, and you'll see the derndest best b'ar fight that ever was.' I'll make things hum in Wymington!”