'But, Mr. Selwyn'--again the American heard the voice of Elise Durwent, that quick intensity of speech that always left a moment of startled silence in its wake--'you have discovered something admirable about England. Won't you tell us what it is?' 'Well,' he said, smiling, 'for one thing, no one can deny the beauty of your women.' 'All decadent nations,' said H. Stackton Dunckley, 'produce beautiful women--it is one of the surest signs that they are going to pieces. The Romans did at the last, and Rome and England are parallel cases. As Mrs. Le Roy Jennings says, they are parasitic nations. What did the Romans add to Greek art? The Greeks had this'--he made an elliptical movement of his hands--'the Romans did that to it'--he described a circle, then shrugged his shoulders, convinced that he had said something crushing. 'So you think English women beautiful, Mr. Selwyn?' said Lady Durwent, trying to retrieve the conversation from the slough of her inamorato's ponderosity. 'Undoubtedly,' answered the American warmly. 'It is no doubt the out-of-door life they lead, and I suppose the moist climate has something to do with their wonderful complexions, but they are womanly as well, and their voices are lovely.' 'I smell a rat,' said Smyth, who had in his mouth an unlit cigarette, which had fastened itself to his lip and bobbed up and down with his speech, like a miniature baton. 'When a man says a woman's voice is sweet, it means that she has bored him; that what she has to say interests him so little that he turns to contemplation of her voice. This American is a devilish cute fellow.' A babble of voices took up the charge and demanded immediate explanation. 'To a certain extent,' said Selwyn stoutly, 'there is much in what Mr. Smyth says.' 'List to the pigmy praising the oracle,' chanted the artist. 'I do not think,' went on the American, 'that the English girls I have met are as bright or as clever as the cultured young women of the continent of America. In other words, with all her natural charm, the English girl does not edit herself well.' 'In that,' said H. Stackton Dunckley, 'she reflects the breed. The Anglo-Saxon has an instinctive indifference to thought.' 'As soon as an Englishman thinks,' minced Madame Carlotti, 'he leaves England with its _cattivo_ climate and goes to the Colonies. _C'est pourquoi_ the Empire ees so powerful--its brains are in the legs.' 'Come, come,' laughed Selwyn, 'is there no one here but me who can discover any merit in Old England?' 'Yes,' said Pyford gloomily; 'London is only seven hours from Paris.' 'Ah--_Parigi_!' ejaculated Madame Carlotti with the fervour born of the feeling in all Latin women that Paris is their spiritual capital.