The gloomy look returned to Arthur’s face: and I could see it was only to distract his thoughts that he took his place at the side of the metaphysical young lady, and resumed their interrupted discussion. “Talking of Herbert Spencer,” he began, “do you really find no _logical_ difficulty in regarding Nature as a process of involution, passing from definite coherent homogeneity to indefinite incoherent heterogeneity?” Amused as I was at the ingenious jumble he had made of Spencer’s words, I kept as grave a face as I could. “No _physical_ difficulty,” she confidently replied: “but I haven’t studied _Logic_ much. Would you _state_ the difficulty?” “Well,” said Arthur, “do you accept it as self-evident? Is it as obvious, for instance, as that ‘things that are greater than the same are greater than one another’?” “To _my_ mind,” she modestly replied, “it seems _quite_ as obvious. I grasp _both_ truths by intuition. But _other_ minds may need some logical—I forget the technical terms.” “For a _complete_ logical argument,” Arthur began with admirable solemnity, “we need two prim Misses——” “Of course!” she interrupted. “I remember that word now. And they produce——?” “A Delusion,” said Arthur. “Ye—es?” she said dubiously. “I don’t seem to remember that so well. But what is the _whole_ argument called?” “A Sillygism.” “Ah, yes! I remember now. But I don’t need a Sillygism, you know, to prove that mathematical axiom you mentioned.” “Nor to prove that ‘all angles are equal’, I suppose?” “Why, of course not! One takes such a simple truth as that for granted!” Here I ventured to interpose, and to offer her a plate of strawberries and cream. I felt really uneasy at the thought that she _might_ detect the trick: and I contrived, unperceived by her, to shake my head reprovingly at the pseudo-philosopher. Equally unperceived by her, Arthur slightly raised his shoulders, and spread his hands abroad, as who should say “What else can I say to her?” and moved away, leaving her to discuss her strawberries by ‘involution,’ or any other way she preferred. By this time the carriages, that were to convey the revelers to their respective homes, had begun to assemble outside the Castle-grounds: and it became evident—now that Lady Muriel’s cousin had joined our party—that the problem, how to convey five people to Elveston, with a carriage that would only hold four, must somehow be solved. The Honorable Eric Lindon, who was at this moment walking up and down with Lady Muriel, might have solved it at once, no doubt, by announcing his intention of returning on foot. Of _this_ solution there did not seem to be the very smallest probability. The next best solution, it seemed to me, was that _I_ should walk home: and this I at once proposed. “You’re sure you don’t mind?” said the Earl. “I’m afraid the carriage won’t take us all, and I don’t like to suggest to Eric to desert his cousin so soon.”