“But if you two are going to quarrel I shall go into the next room,” Victoria went on, quickly, beginning to move away. “Oh no, Lady Victoria,” Mr. Jones remonstrated; “I never quarrel. I am a subscriber to the Peace Society--I really am.” The Dean of Colchester looked round. “Then I can leave you in perfect safety,” retorted Victoria, gliding off. “Dear me! I am afraid that Lady Victoria is sarcastic, too,” Mr. Jones observed, sagaciously, looking after her. “Don’t you think so, Hammond?” “I have suspected her of it sometimes; but she never admits it, and it is so difficult to prove these things.” “I will ask the dean; I am sure he is not sarcastic--are you, dean?” “My dear fellow,” Hammond interrupted, “I am surprised that you should ask such a question. A sarcastic dean would be a moral outrage. You might as well speak of a malicious cathedral.” The dean thought of his fifty pounds, and smiled like an early Christian martyr commencing an interview with a sharp-set lion. At this point Hammond’s attention was diverted by the entrance of the latest arrival. As he turned away to greet him, the dean laid a caressing hand on Mr. Jones’s arm. “Did I hear you say just now that you were a subscriber to--” Mr. Jones gave a glance round. He was alone with the dean, and the dean was on the wrong side of him. There was no human eye to see the deed. With one swift movement he succeeded in depositing his gloves in their long-sought hiding-place, and then suffered himself to fall an unresisting prey to the north tower of the Colchester Cathedral. Captain Mauleverer’s face wore a decidedly cross expression as he came into the room. At the sight of Hammond it lighted up, and the two shook hands like old friends. “So you patronize my aunt’s menagerie?” the captain observed, disrespectfully. “Well, yes.” “I should have thought you had too much sense.” “My dear fellow, you are here yourself,” returned Hammond. The captain gave an impatient shrug. “I know, but I shouldn’t be if I could help it. It’s a beastly bore. You can’t smoke, and you can’t drink, and you are expected to sit beside some sentimental woman of fifty and let her gush to you over some beastly novel you haven’t read, and wouldn’t understand if you had.” Hammond shook his head with a reproving smile. “Yes, but you should remember that we are not here to please ourselves. We are here to please society.” “Why should you care about society? You’re not a damned pauper like me. You have everything you want.” “No one on the face of the earth has everything he wants,” Hammond retorted. “But I see what it is; you are out of sorts. What’s the matter?” Mauleverer’s only answer was a despairing shrug. “Been backing a horse?” “No, it’s not that.” “What is it, then? Cards?” “No.” “Not drink?” in a tone of incredulity. “No, no.” “Tell me.” The captain hesitated for a moment before he gave the answer: “Girl.”