He turned and gave her her reward--the feeling smile that says, '_Thank God!_' But, strangely, it did not reflect itself in the woman's face. Something quite different there, lurking under the soft gaiety. Was it consciousness of this being the second time during the evening that she had employed the too common vaunt of the woman of that particular world? Did some ironic echo reach her of that same boast (often as mirthless and as pitiful as the painted smile on the cruder face), the 'I'm afraid I'm rather frivolous' of the well-to-do woman, whose frivolity--invaluable asset!--is beginning to show wear? 'Well, to return to our mutton,' he said; and, as his companion seemed suddenly to be overtaken by some unaccountable qualm, 'What a desert life would be,' he added encouragingly, 'if we couldn't talk to the discreet about the indiscreet.' 'I wonder if there wouldn't be still more oases in the desert,' she said idly, 'if there were a new law made----' He glanced at her with veiled apprehension in the pause. 'You being so Liberal,' she went on with faint mockery, 'you're the very one to introduce the measure' (he shrank visibly, and seemed about to remind her of her pledge). 'It shall ordain,' she went on, 'that those who have found satisfactory husbands or wives are to rest content with their good fortune, and not be so greedy as to insist on having the children, too.' 'Oh!' His gravity relaxed. 'But, on the other hand, all the lonely women, the widows and spinsters, who haven't got anything else, _they_ shall have the children.' 'I won't go so far as that,' he laughed, boundlessly relieved that the conversation was not taking the strenuous turn he for a moment feared. 'But I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll support a measure that shall make an allowance of _one_ child to every single woman the proper and accepted arrangement. No questions asked, and no disgrace.' 'Disgrace!' she echoed, smiling. 'On the contrary, it should be the woman's title to honour! She should be given a beautiful Order like yours for service to the State.' 'Ah, yes! But, what then would we talk about?' She had turned away definitely this time. 'Well,' said Borrodaile, a little mocking, 'what is it?' 'I don't know,' she answered. 'I don't know _what_ it is that seizes hold of me after I've been chattering like this for an hour or more.' Borrodaile bent his head, and glanced past Vida to the abandoned minister. 'Console me by saying a slight weariness.' 'More like loathing.' 'Not of _both_ your neighbours, I hope.' He lost the low 'Of myself.' 'But there's one person,' she said, with something like enthusiasm--'one person that I respect and admire.' 'Oh!' He glanced about the board with an air of lazy interest. 'Which one?' 'I don't know her name. I mean the woman who dares to sit quite silent and eat her dinner without looking like a lost soul.' 'I've been saying you could do that.'