'Oh, Mavis! I do remember it. I remember what was the matter with her quite well.' 'I bet you don't. What was it?' she asked, with childish eagerness. 'It was that wind round the heart that she gets sometimes. She told me about it. Nothing seems to shift it, either.' Mavis laughed--hoarse, childlike laughter that brought tears to her eyes. 'It's a shame to make fun of Aunt Jessie; she's a very, very good sort.' 'Oh, good gracious, Mavis, if it comes to sorts, I'm sure she's quite at the top of the tree. But don't let's bother about her now.' 'What _do_ you want to bother about?' 'Couldn't you come out and dine with me, Mavis? It would be a change'--he was going to say 'for you', but altered it--'for me.' 'Oh no, Vincy; you can't take me out to dinner. I don't look up to the mark.' She looked in a glass. 'My hat--it's a very good hat--it cost more than you'd think--but it shows signs of wear.' 'Oh, that reminds me,' began Vincy. 'What _do_ you think happened the other day? A cousin of mine who was up in London a little while bought a hat--it didn't suit her, and she insisted on giving it to me! She didn't know what to do to get rid of it! I'd given her something or other, for her birthday, and _she_ declared she would give this to _me_ for _my_ birthday, and so--I've got it on my hands.' 'What a very queer thing! It doesn't sound true.' 'No; does it? Do have some more tea, Mavis darling.' 'No, thanks; I'll have another cake.' 'May I smoke?' She laughed. 'Asking _me_! You do what you like in your own house.' 'It's yours,' he answered, 'when you're here. And when you're not, even more,' he added as an afterthought. He struck a match; she laughed and said: 'I don't believe I understand you a bit.' 'Oh--I went to the play last night,' said Vincy. 'Oh, Mavis, it was such a wearing play.' 'All about nothing, I suppose? They always are, now.' 'Oh no. It was all about everything. The people were _so_ clever; it was something cruel how clever they were. One man _did_ lay down the law! Oh, didn't he though! I don't hold with being bullied and lectured from the stage, do you, Mavis? It seems so unfair when you can't answer back.' 'Was it Bernard Shaw?' she asked. 'No; it wasn't; not this time; it was someone else. Oh, I do feel sometimes when I'm sitting in my stall, so good and quiet, holding my programme nicely and sitting up straight to the table, as it were, and then a fellow lets me have it, tells me where I'm wrong and all that; I _should_ like to stand up and give a back answer, wouldn't you?' 'No; I'd like to see _you_ do it! Er--what colour is that hat that your cousin gave you?' 'Oh, colour?' he said thoughtfully, smoking. 'Let me see--what colour was it? It doesn't seem to me that it was any particular colour. It was a very curious colour. Sort of mole-colour. Or was it cerise? Or violet?... You wouldn't like to see it, would you?' 'Why, yes, I'd like to see it; I wouldn't try it on of course.' He opened the box.