“I’ve not seen her myself yet,” said Lady Beach-Mandarin. “She’s Mr. Brumley’s particular discovery.” “You haven’t called?” he asked with a faint reproach. “But I’ve been going to—oh! tremendously. And you revive all my curiosity. Why shouldn’t some of us this very afternoon——?” She caught at her own passing idea and held it. “Let’s Go,” she cried. “Let’s visit the wife of this Ogre, the last of the women in captivity. We’ll take the big car and make a party and call _en masse_.” Mr. Toomer protested he had no morbid curiosities. “But you, Susan?” Miss Sharsper declared she would _love_ to come. Wasn’t it her business to study out-of-the-way types? Mr. Roper produced a knowing sort of engagement—“I’m provided for already, Lady Beach-Mandarin,” he said, and the cousins from Perth had to do some shopping. “Then we three will be the expedition,” said the hostess. “And afterwards if we survive we’ll tell you our adventures. It’s a house on Putney Hill, isn’t it, where this Christian maiden, so to speak, is held captive? I’ve had her in my mind, but I’ve always intended to call with Agatha Alimony; she’s so inspiring to down-trodden women.” “Not exactly down-trodden,” said Mr. Brumley, “not down-trodden. That’s what’s so curious about it.” “And what shall we do when we get there?” cried Lady Beach-Mandarin. “I feel we ought to do something more than call. Can’t we carry her off right away, Mr. Brumley? I want to go right in to her and say ‘Look here! I’m on your side. Your husband’s a tyrant. I’m help and rescue. I’m all that a woman ought to be—fine and large. Come out from under that unworthy man’s heel!’” “Suppose she isn’t at all the sort of person you seem to think she is,” said Miss Sharsper. “And suppose she came!” “Suppose she didn’t,” reflected Mr. Roper. “I seem to see your flight,” said Mr. Toomer. “And the newspaper placards and head-lines. ‘Lady Beach-Mandarin elopes with the wife of an eminent confectioner. She is stopped at the landing stage by the staff of the Dover Branch establishment. Recapture of the fugitive after a hot struggle. Brumley, the eminent _littérateur_, stunned by a spent bun....’” “We’re all talking great nonsense,” said Lady Beach-Mandarin. “But anyhow we’ll make our call. And _I_ know!—I’ll make her accept an invitation to lunch without him.” “If she won’t?” threw out Mr. Roper. “I _will_,” said Lady Beach-Mandarin with roguish determination. “And if I can’t——” “Not ask him too!” protested Mr. Brumley. “Why not get her to come to your Social Friends meeting,” said Miss Sharsper. §2