But, whether it was because that involuntary whisper of his about his sister had sickened me even more than I had thought at the moment, or whether it was merely because I was too busy with arranging myself into the new place, I simply did not seem to have the time to look him up during those twelve days. I wish I had. Nor, during those twelve days, would it have come very amiss to talk a little about Mrs. Storm. One would have liked to know just a little of the history of that shameless, shameful lady. After all, one didn’t every day meet a woman with a pagan body and a Chislehurst mind. But naturally neither Guy nor Hilary was available during those twelve days, for that is a way friends have; Guy because he was down at Mace with the May-fly, and Hilary just because he was tiresome. Hilary, Guy wrote from Mace, was helping a Liberal to fight a musty bye-election in some Staffordshire place. “As if,” Guy wrote, “a Liberal ever won, as if a Liberal could ever win without a pretty long start! and a handicapper can never get a grip on anything in a Liberal to give him a start on--sticky little fellows they are, always sliding away somewhere. And as if it mattered whether a Liberal did or didn’t win. He’ll only get squashed with his own petard.” And, however it was, Hilary’s Liberal didn’t win, so maybe Guy was right. “In ten years’ time,” says Guy, “Hilary will be the only Liberal left in Parliament, looking happier and younger and more sickening than ever.” It was on the fifth morning after the coming and going of the green hat that I was on an instant afflicted with an impulse, and did on the same instant act upon it. “Hello!” I said. “Hello!” they said. They were a she. “Could I speak to Mrs. Storm, please?” “Who is that speaking, please?” I quibbled quite in vain. “I will put the name down in her little book,” said the she kindly. “Thank you,” I tried not to say bitterly. To ring some one up on impulse and then have your impulse perpetuated in a Little Book! “Mrs. Storm is not in town,” said the she. “Oh, I see,” I said. It is a detestable habit some people have of saying “in town” or “out of town.” What town? There can’t, honestly, be any real harm in saying London.... “Is there any message? I always take her messages.” “Oh, no,” I said. “Thank you very much. Good-b----” “This is Mrs. Oden speaking.” “Oh,” I said. “Mrs. Oden?” “Yes?” said Mrs. Oden. “Well, thank you very much,” I said. “Good-b----”