“You pride yourself beyond all reason on your stature,” she said, “and are too dense to perceive it is your undoing.” Lorraine leant towards him and said: “Inches give magnanimity: big men are always big-hearted; you can afford to forgive her, and retaliate that too much brain-power sinks individuality into mere machinery. I should say Hal’s besetting fault was rapping every one on the knuckles, as if they were the keys of a typewriting machine.” “And yours, my dear Lorraine, is smiling into every one’s eyes, as if the world held no others for you. Were I a man, and you smiled at me so, I would strangle you before you had time to repeat the glance on some one else.” “And Dick’s besetting sin,” murmured St. Quintin plaintively, “is a persistent fancy for other people’s ties and other people’s boots. I have cause to bless the benign and other people’s boots. I have cause to bless the benign providence who fashioned my shoulders sufficiently smaller than his to prevent his wearing my coats.” “And yours, Quin,” broke in Hermon, “is a fond and loathsome affection for pipes so seasoned that the Board of Trade ought to prohibit their use.” “After all,” Hal rapped out at him, “that’s not so bad as love of a looking-glass.” “And love of a looking-glass is no worse than love of throwing stones from glass houses,” he retorted. “Of course it isn’t, Hal,” broke in her cousin, “and probably if you had anything nice to look at in your glass—” Hal stood up. “The meeting is adjourned,” she announced solemnly, “and the honourable member who was just spoken has the president’s leave to absent himself on the occasion of the next gathering.” “Excellent,” cried Quin, while Hermon in great glee rapped the table with his knife handle and exclaimed, “Capital, Dick!... That drew her... I think you might say it took the middle stump.” “Oh, thank goodness he’s got on to cricket,” breathed Hal. “He does know a little about that, and may possibly talk sense for ten minutes. Come along, Lorraine, and don’t address Baby at present, for fear you distract him from his game and start him off struggling to be clever again. As it is Sunday night, perhaps Dick would like to read us his latest effusions in the way of boisterous hymns!” She led the way back to the bachelor sitting-room, and for some little time Dick amused them greatly with his experiences over editors and magazines, and then the two went off together to Lorraine’s flat. At this time she was living at the bottom of Lower Sloane Street, with windows looking over the river, and it was generally supposed that her mother lived with her.