“You see, no one wanted to hear me talk if they could hear him,” she explained. “Now it has become a habit. Condor has only to say ‘Ah!’ and I stop like an automaton.” At this moment she was following him from the car amid the usual shower of various belongings. Violet and her husband assisted her while North and Mansfield gathered up the débris. “Yes, my dears, we have been to a meeting as usual. Natural—I mean National Economy. Condor made a really admirable speech, recommending impossible things; excellent, of course—only impossible! My glasses? Thank you, Roger. Yes, isn’t the car shabby? I am so thankful. A new Rolls-Royce has such a painfully rich appearance, hasn’t it? And the old ones go just as well, if not better. That scarf? Um—yes—perhaps I will want it. Let us put it into Condor’s pocket. A little more padding makes no difference to him.” “When I was younger it used to be my privilege and pleasure to pick up these little odds and ends for my wife,” said Lord Condor, smiling good-naturedly, while his wife stuffed the scarf into his pocket. “But alas! my figure no longer permits.” “I remember my engagement was a most trying time,” said Lady Condor. “My dear mother impressed on me that if Condor once realized the irritation my untidiness and habit of dropping my things about would cause him in our married life, he would break it off. What, Vi? Oh, damn the thing!” Violet Riversley, holding a gold bag which had mysteriously dropped from somewhere, went off into a helpless fit of laughter.