MR. SENIOR ROPPE (_as he waltzes_). Oh, you needn't feel convicted of extraordinary ignorance, I assure you, Miss Featherhead. You would be surprised if you knew how many really clever persons have found that simple little problem of nought divided by one too much for them. Would you have supposed, by the way, that there is a reservoir in Pennsylvania containing a sufficient number of gallons to supply all London for eighteen months? You don't quite realize it, I see. "How many gallons is that?" Well, let me calculate roughly--taking the population of London at four millions, and the average daily consumption for each individual at--no, I can't work it out with sufficient accuracy while I am dancing; suppose we sit down, and I'll do it for you on my shirt-cuff--oh, very well; then I'll work it out when I get home, and send you the result to-morrow, if you will allow me. MR. CULDERSACK (_who has provided himself beforehand with a set of topics for conversation--to his partner, as they halt for a moment_). Er--(_consults some hieroglyphics on his cuff stealthily_)--have you read Stanley's book yet? MISS TABULA RAISER. No, I haven't. Is it interesting? MR. CULDERSACK. I can't say. I've not seen it myself. Shall we--er--? [_They take another turn._ [Illustration: "ER--" (CONSULTS SOME HIEROGLYPHICS ON HIS CUFF STEALTHILY).] MR. C. I suppose you have--er--been to the (_hesitates between the Academy and the Military Exhibition--decides on latter topic as fresher_) Military Exhibition? MISS T. R. No--not yet. What do you think of it? MR. C. Oh--_I_ haven't been either. Er--do you care to--? [_They take another turn._ MR. C. (_after third halt_). Er--do you take any interest in politics? MISS T. R. Not a bit. MR. C. (_much relieved_). No more do I. (_Considers that he has satisfied all mental requirements._) Er--let me take you down stairs for an ice. [_They go._ MRS. GRAPPLETON (_re-entering with_ MR. BOLDOVER, _after a discussion that has outlasted two ices and a plate of strawberries_). Well, I thought you would have explained my difficulties better than _that_--oh, what a _delicious_ waltz! Doesn't it set you longing to dance? MR. B. (_who sees_ MISS ROUNDARM _in the distance, disengaged_). Yes, I really think I must--. [_Preparing to escape._ MRS. GRAPPLETON. I'm getting such an old thing, that really I oughtn't to--but well, just this _once_, as my husband isn't here. [MR. BOLDOVER _resigns himself to necessity once more_. FIRST CHAPERON (_to second ditto_). How sweet it is of your eldest girl to dance with that absurd Mr. Clumpsole! It's really too _bad_ of him to make such an exhibition of her--one can't help smiling at them! SECOND CH. Oh, Ethel never can bear to hurt any one's feelings--so different from some girls! By the way, I've not seen _your_ daughter dancing to-night--men who dance are so scarce nowadays--I suppose they think they have the right to be a little fastidious.