"I tell you, Rob, if these were the good old days of duelling, I’d have run his fat carcass through with a rapier half a dozen times before this. And done it with relish, too. Nowadays, worse luck, it isn’t even good form to give him a thrashing, though Heaven knows he’s the sort of brute that understands no argument but a blow." "Blows would only sharpen his wits against you, Claude. Curs bite, as bees sting, by force of nature. The only thing to do is to get out of their way." "I’m not in the habit of getting out of any man’s way," said Claude, haughtily. "However, don’t let’s talk about the beast. I’m extremely sorry you’re out of a job. Tell you what, Rob. Come up to my office on Monday, and we’ll talk the situation over and see what can be done. You’ll find me in the galleries on the top floor." "Thanks, Claude, but Monday is impossible," said Robert, glad of the excuse, for he scented patronage in his friend’s manner. "I’m giving a talk on ’Unemployment under the National Guild System’ before the Guild Study Club. When I arranged to speak on Unemployment I had no idea I should do so as an experienced hand." Possibly Claude was dimly conscious of his friend’s sensitiveness. At all events, he said: "Well, come on your first free day. I’m always there afternoons. You _must_ come, if only to see my two new Cezannes. I’ve just induced father to buy them. By the way, old chap, what on earth are National Guilds?" The return of the ladies cut off a reply. Janet’s natural grace redeemed the hang of a not too well-tailored suit. Cornelia was all aglow over a mandarin coat she had put on. It was a wonderful dark green silk with dull gold embroidery. Her clothes had a remarkable effect of clinging to her contours. "Look at me," her body seemed to call out through its vestments, "did you ever see anything so ravishing?" Janet walked over to Robert’s side and sought forgiveness without asking for it. And he forgave her without saying so. Her soft, flexible, thrilling voice disturbed him sorely, and he wondered whether its sustained riches were as illusory as he judged the mysterious depths of her gray eyes to be. Meanwhile, Claude was telling Cornelia in all sincerity that she had never looked more enchanting. "Flatterer!" she said. "To how many girls have you said that today?" "Facts don’t flatter, Cornelia. They simply cry out the truth." "Lothario, it’s all a matter of the science of pinning and the art of dressing. Or rather, of _not_ dressing." For the hundredth time, she assured Claude and Robert that she never wore corsets or underwear, and didn’t believe in these accoutrements. "What, nothing?" exclaimed Claude, perhaps to see Janet blush.