Percival Kex won his six insurance stamps without much difficulty. Parallax made his oration, and when the audience had dispersed, he became the immediate victim of Mrs. Canterton’s enthusiasms. They paraded the grounds together, Parallax polite, stiff, and full of a disastrous disgust; Gertrude Canterton earnestly vivadous, poking her chin at him, and exerting all her public charm. Parallax was considered to be a great personality, and she insisted upon his being interesting and serious, giving him every opportunity to be brilliant upon such subjects as Welsh Disestablishment, the inadequacy of the Navy, and the importation of pork from China. She kept him for more than an hour, introduced him to numberless honest souls who were content with a shake of the hand, insinuated in every way that she knew that he was a very great man, but never suspected that he wanted to play croquet. Parallax detached himself at last, and found Kex and Miss Abercorn having tea under the lime tree in that secluded corner where none of the Leaguers penetrated. “By George, Kex, I’ve never been taken so seriously in my life! Let me see—where am I? I think I got bogged in Tariff Reform.” “We thought we would come and have tea, Parallax. We saw you were too occupied.” “Kex, you are an old scoundrel. Why didn’t you rescue me when you had won your bet?” “Sir, I am not a hero.” “Is there a whisky and soda to be had? Oh, here’s a servant. Bring me a whisky and soda, will you?” He sat down and looked reproachfully at Miss Abercorn. “I suppose it would never occur to such a woman that a man might want to play croquet?” “Croquet, Parallax! My dear fellow, think of the Empire, and——” “Hang the Empire. Here’s my whisky.” “Don’t you think you had better make sure of it by going and drinking it in the shrubbery? She may follow you up to see what you’ve got to say on Eugenics.” “Miss Abercorn, will you protect me? Really, I have had too much Minerva.” “That apple! I always had a lot of sympathy with Paris. I think he was a particularly bright young man.” “One word, Kex: has the lady a husband?” “She has.” “Thank God, and Heaven help him!” * * * * * CHAPTER II LYNETTE FEEDS THE FAIRIES About six o’clock James Canterton took leave of Guinevere, and passing out through the yew hedge, made his way down the rhododendron walk to the wicket gate that opened on the side of a hill. On this hill-side was the “heath garden” that tumbled when in full bloom like a cataract of purple and white wine till it broke against the shadowy edge of a larch wood. The spires of the larches descended in glimmering confusion towards the stream that ran among poplars and willows in the bottom of the valley.