Ansell began with, “On which ladder?” but Mrs. Lewin, using the privilege of her sex, exclaimed, “Not another word. If there’s a thing I abominate, it is plans. My head goes whirling at once.” What she really abominated was questions, and she saw that Ansell was turning serious. To appease him, she put on her clever manner and asked him about Germany. How had it impressed him? Were we so totally unfitted to repel invasion? Was not German scholarship overestimated? He replied discourteously, but he did reply; and if she could have stopped him thinking, her triumph would have been complete. When they rose to go, Agnes held Ansell’s hand for a moment in her own. “Good-bye,” she said. “It was very unconventional of us to come as we did, but I don’t think any of us are conventional people.” He only replied, “Good-bye.” The ladies started off. Rickie lingered behind to whisper, “I would have it so. I would have you begin square together. I can’t talk yet—I’ve loved her for years—I can’t think what she’s done it for. I’m going to write short stories. I shall start this afternoon. She declares there may be something in me.” As soon as he had left, Tilliard burst in, white with agitation, and crying, “Did you see my awful _faux pas_—about the horsewhip? What shall I do? I must call on Elliot. Or had I better write?” “Miss Pembroke will not mind,” said Ansell gravely. “She is unconventional.” He knelt in an arm-chair and hid his face in the back. “It was like a bomb,” said Tilliard. “It was meant to be.” “I do feel a fool. What must she think?” “Never mind, Tilliard. You’ve not been as big a fool as myself. At all events, you told her he must be horsewhipped.” Tilliard hummed a little tune. He hated anything nasty, and there was nastiness in Ansell. “What did you tell her?” he asked. “Nothing.” “What do you think of it?” “I think: Damn those women.” “Ah, yes. One hates one’s friends to get engaged. It makes one feel so old: I think that is one of the reasons. The brother just above me has lately married, and my sister was quite sick about it, though the thing was suitable in every way.” “Damn _these_ women, then,” said Ansell, bouncing round in the chair. “Damn these particular women.” “They looked and spoke like ladies.” “Exactly. Their diplomacy was ladylike. Their lies were ladylike. They’ve caught Elliot in a most ladylike way. I saw it all during the one moment we were natural. Generally we were clattering after the married one, whom—like a fool—I took for a fool. But for one moment we were natural, and during that moment Miss Pembroke told a lie, and made Rickie believe it was the truth.” “What did she say?” “She said ‘we see’ instead of ‘I see.’” Tilliard burst into laughter. This jaundiced young philosopher, with his kinky view of life, was too much for him.