Arthur smiled mischievously. “I shouldn’t mind betting you a shilling,” he said, “that the Eminent Barrister next you” (It certainly _is_ possible to say words so as to make them begin with capitals!) “ca’n’t answer me!” “I _never_ bet,” she sternly replied. “Not even sixpenny points at _whist_?” “_Never!_” she repeated. “_Whist_ is innocent enough: but whist played for _money_!” She shuddered. Arthur became serious again. “I’m afraid I ca’n’t take that view,” he said. “I consider that the introduction of small stakes for card-playing was one of the most _moral_ acts Society ever did, _as_ Society.” “How was it so?” said Lady Muriel. “Because it took Cards, once for all, out of the category of games at which _cheating_ is possible. Look at the way Croquet is demoralising Society. Ladies are beginning to cheat at it, terribly: and, if they’re found out, they only laugh, and call it fun. But when there’s _money_ at stake, that is out of the question. The swindler is _not_ accepted as a wit. When a man sits down to cards, and cheats his friends out of their money, he doesn’t get much _fun_ out of it—unless he thinks it fun to be kicked down stairs!” “If all gentlemen thought as badly of ladies as _you_ do,” my neighbour remarked with some bitterness, “there would be very few—very few——.” She seemed doubtful how to end her sentence, but at last took “honeymoons” as a safe word. “On the contrary,” said Arthur, the mischievous smile returning to his face, “if only people would adopt _my_ theory, the number of honeymoons—quite of a new kind—would be greatly increased!” “May we hear about this new kind of honeymoon?” said Lady Muriel. “Let _X_ be the gentleman,” Arthur began, in a slightly raised voice, as he now found himself with an audience of _six_, including ‘Mein Herr,’ who was seated at the other side of my polynomial partner. “Let _X_ be the gentleman, and _Y_ the lady to whom he thinks of proposing. He applies for an Experimental Honeymoon. It is granted. Forthwith the young couple—accompanied by the great-aunt of _Y_, to act as chaperone—start for a month’s tour, during which they have many a moonlight-walk, and many a _tête-à-tête_ conversation, and each can form a more correct estimate of the other’s character, in four _weeks_, than would have been possible in as many _years_, when meeting under the ordinary restrictions of Society. And it is only after their _return_ that _X_ finally decides whether he will, or will not, put the momentous question to _Y_!” “In nine cases out of ten,” the pompous man proclaimed, “he would decide to break it off!” “Then, in nine cases out of ten,” Arthur rejoined, “an unsuitable match would be prevented, and _both_ parties saved from misery!” “The only really _unsuitable_ matches,” the old lady remarked, “are those made without sufficient _Money_. Love may come _afterwards_. Money is needed _to begin with_!”