“I don’t think he’s useless,” Gurdy argued, “He makes Mark put on a comedy now and then. He swears better than any one I know. And you ought to be grateful to him. If Mark hadn’t had him for company you’d probably have been hauled home long ago.” Margot opened a Russian, lead box on a table and lit a cigarette. She said, “Don’t think so. Dad’s never made the slightest sign of hauling me home. Especially after Mr. Frohman.... Ugh! I almost had nervous prostration, when I heard Dad had sailed after the _Lusitania_!” Her lids fell and shook the astonishing lashes against the pale brown of her cheeks. Then she chuckled, “The joke is, I’d as soon have gone home long ago. I’m mad about Olive, of course. And I’ve had all sorts of a good time. But I’d rather be home.... How’s your mother?” He was answering when the butler barked names from the doorway. Margot whispered, “Run. The rehearsal. Go hide in the drawing room. These are all bores.” He passed out through a group of men and girls, encountered a Colonel of the British General Staff in the hall and was cordially halted. He stood discussing military shoes with this dignitary as Olive Ilden let herself into the hall. Gurdy recalled her slim and tall. Now that he looked down, she seemed stout, no longer handsome but the deep voice remained charming as it rose from her black veils. She led him off into the drawing room and said, at once, “Margot’s pretty, isn’t she?” “Yes. Mark’s been raving about her but I thought--” “You thought he was idealizing, after his customary manner? He sent me a picture of you, so I’m not surprised. Don’t sit in that chair. It’s for pygmies.... I want to talk about Margot and it’s likely we won’t have another chance. You two don’t write each other letters. Had you heard from Mark that she wants to play?” “Play?” “Be an actress. I thought I’d better warn you,” Olive laughed, “I don’t know when it started. I know Mark wouldn’t like it. Otherwise the child’s the delight of my life.” She sank into a couch and asked, “Now, what are these diplomatic idiots doing in Paris? I don’t like the look of things.” “Arranging for another war.” “I do hope they’ll arrange it for twenty years from date. I’ll be past sixty then and I won’t care. I’ll be able to sit and grin at the women who’re going through what--Only, of course, I shouldn’t grin. I’m a true blue Briton of the old breed when it comes to an emotion. I simply can’t enjoy an emotion when it’s my emotion.... Had you ever thought that that’s why bad plays and cinema rubbish are so popular? It’s the unreality of the passions.... I dare say that’s why I’ve just been to church.... Perhaps that’s why Margot wants to go on the stage. She’s never had an emotion worth shedding a tear for. Well, how’s Mark?” “Putting on three plays after Christmas and thinks they’re all winners.”