I myself dissent, humbly, of course, from this view. Pictures like _Time, Death and Judgment_--I take it as an example of the kind of picture which is meant to make us good because I once saw it hung up in a church--appeal to me strongly. I do not like novels which aim at a reform of the marriage laws; but that is only because sex problems bore me horribly. I enjoy novels written with any other purpose. I hate parties, such as those which Godfrey instigates me to give, which have no object except that of merely being parties, the bare collection together of human beings in their best clothes. I was, therefore, greatly pleased when I discovered that my original guess was right and that Lady Moyne's party was definitely political. I found this out when I arrived in the drawing-room before dinner. I was a little too early and there was no one in the room except Moyne. He shook hands with me apologetically and this gave me a clue to the nature of the entertainment before me. He dislikes politics greatly, and would be much happier than he is if he were allowed to hunt and fish instead of attending to such business as is carried on in the House of Lords. But a man cannot expect to get all he wants in life. Moyne has a particularly charming and clever wife who enjoys politics immensely. The price he pays for her is the loss of a certain amount of sport and the endurance of long periods of enforced legislative activity. "I ought to have told you before you came," he said, "that--well, you know that my lady is very strongly opposed to this Home Rule Bill." Moyne is fifteen years or so older than his wife. He shows his respect for her by the pretty old-fashioned way in which he always speaks of her as "my lady." "The fact is," he went on, "that the people we have with us at present--" "Babberly?" I asked. Moyne nodded sorrowfully. Babberly is the most terrific of all Unionist orators. If his speeches were set to music, the orchestra would necessarily consist entirely of cornets, trumpets and drums. No one could express the spirit of Babberly's oratory on stringed instruments. Flutes would be ridiculous. "Of course," said Moyne, still apologetically, "it really is rather a crisis you know." "It always is," I said. "I've lived through seventy or eighty of them." "But this is much worse than most," he said. "A man called Malcolmson arrived this afternoon, a colonel of some sort. Was in the artillery, I think." "You read his letter in _The Times_, I suppose?" "Yes, I did. But I needn't tell you, Kilmore, that that kind of thing is all talk. My wife--" "I fancy Lady Moyne would look well as _vivandiere_," I said, "marching in front of an ambulance waggon with a red cross on it." Moyne looked pained. He is very fond of Lady Moyne and very proud of her. This is quite natural. I should be proud of her too if she were my wife. "Her idea," said Lord Moyne, "is--"