you thought the inequalities and oppressions and miseries now universal were a necessary part of life and were going on for ever you wouldn’t be interested in those people over the river (the bedridden girl and her brother I mean); because Mr. Robinson tells me they’re advanced socialists—or at least the brother is. Perhaps you’ll say you don’t care for him—the sister, to your mind, being the remarkable one. She’s indeed a perfect little _femme du monde_—she talks so much better than most of the people in society. I hope you don’t mind my saying that, because I’ve an idea you’re not in society. You can imagine whether I am! Haven’t you judged it like me, condemned it and given it up? Aren’t you sick of the egotism, the snobbery, the meanness, the frivolity, the immorality, the hypocrisy? Isn’t there a great resemblance in our situations? I don’t mean in our natures, for you’re far better than I shall ever be. Aren’t you quite divinely good? When I see a woman of your sort—not that I often do—I try to be a little less bad. You’ve helped hundreds, thousands of people: you must help _me_!” These remarks, which I have strung together, didn’t of course fall from the Princess’s lips in an uninterrupted stream; they were arrested and interspersed by frequent, inarticulate responses and embarrassed protests. Lady Aurora shrank from them even while they gratified her, blinking and fidgeting in the dazzling, direct light of her hostess’s sympathy. I needn’t repeat her answers, the more so as they none of them arrived at completion but passed away into nervous laughter and averted looks, the latter directed at the ceiling, the floor, the windows, and appearing to project a form of entreaty to some occult or supernatural power that the conversation should become more impersonal. In reply to the Princess’s allusion to the convictions prevailing in the Muniment family she said that the brother and sister thought differently about public questions but were of the same mind with regard to the interest taken by persons of the upper class in the working people, the attempt on the part of their so-called superiors to enter into their life: they pronounced it a great mistake. At this information the Princess looked much disappointed; she wished to know if the Muniments deemed it so impossible to do them any good. “Oh I mean a mistake from _our_ point of view,” said Lady Aurora. “They wouldn’t do it in our place; they think we had much better occupy ourselves with our own pleasures.” And as her new friend stared, not comprehending, she went on: “Rosy thinks we’ve a right to our own pleasures under all circumstances, no matter how badly off the poor may be; and her brother takes the ground that we’re not likely to have them much longer and that in view of what may happen we’re great fools not to make the most of them.” “I see, I see. That’s very strong,” the Princess murmured in a tone of high appreciation.