“A farce more likely to turn into a tragedy,” saucily retorted Vane. “See how matters are going on in South Africa; or at least see what is _not_ going on; for by this time we must be the laughing-stock of a handful of farmers. War is bound to cease, and we shall have to retreat ignominiously, as we cannot send any more men out there, owing to the confusion at the War Office. It appears they cannot distinguish our valiant officers from the men.” “Ah! This is the first blow struck at the principle of warfare,” replied Lionel. “When you think of it in cold blood, it is quite impossible to admit of war. Try and boycott your neighbour, persuade him into giving up his will to yours; order his meals, eat three parts of them yourself, invade his house, break his furniture; and if he in any way objects, then use the convincing arguments of artillery and bayonets. After that, you will see how it works.” “Yes, the history of nations is nothing else but a series of thefts, murders and duplicity; and were any of our personal friends to commit a quarter of what sovereigns and governments commit in one day’s work, we should promptly strike their names off our visiting list,” said Gwendolen. Perhaps this remark struck home, for no one replied. Vane got up briskly on to his feet, and bowed daintily over Lady Carey’s hand. “Ta-ta, Mr Danford,” he nodded to the little mimic, and left the room. “I shall walk a little way with you, Lionel,” said Sinclair, who had got up to say good-bye to his hostess. “Come along with us,” replied Lionel. “Good-bye, dear Lady Carey. I am going to ring up old Victor de Laumel by telephone, and ask him what they think of us in ‘_la ville lumière_.’” “My dear boy,” said Lady Carey, “you may be sure of this, that the smart Parisians would have found a way out of this difficulty before now. But at any rate, they never would have taken it _au serieux_, as you are doing; for they are too punctilious on the question of good taste, and more than anything fear ridicule!” CHAPTER XIII A few days after this animated discussion at Lady Carey’s, there were to be seen dashing along Pall Mall numerous chariots which halted at the ex-Walton Club, where also fair ladies were alighting from their wheeled couches (these had been designed by Sinclair at Lionel’s suggestion). There were also public conveyances of a practical and artistic shape, made to accommodate several passengers in a comfortable posture. The fastidious designer could not conceal his satisfaction at the disappearance of advertisements, which formerly had distracted his æsthetic mind, and roused his indignation at the public’s gullibility. The Walton was filling fast. Everyone interested in the future of art was there, as Lord Somerville had promised to give an address on the Royal Academy; and the telephones had been kept going by friends and acquaintances of his, inviting their friends to attend the meeting.