"I don't think that's an original remark," said Leah, languidly, and loosening her furs, for the room really was heated like the conservatory, in which the lovers talked Chinese metaphysics. "Didn't George Eliot say something of the sort?" "I never knew him," retorted Lady Canvey, wilfully dense. "You and your Chinese metaphysics indeed! I won't have it----" "Have them," corrected Leah, gently, and unable to resist the opportunity. Lady Canvey scowled like the fairy Caraboss, and continued, without heeding the impertinence, "Joan is the daughter of Lionel's vicar." "I see, and he intends to be the vicar's son-in-law." "What is that to you?" "News!" expressed Lady Jim, serenely. "I never knew such a prig as Lionel could fall in love." "His love is the love of an honest man," declared the old dame, striking her crutch on the carpet. "I hope so, for the sake of his cloth." "Chinese metaphysics indeed!" grumbled Lady Canvey. "The poor child did not know what you meant." "She certainly seems to be somewhat dull." "Dull yourself, Leah. She's a sweet-tempered, good, thoughtful girl." "Oh, I didn't mean to say she was so dull as all those qualities imply," said Lady Jim, sweetly. Lady Canvey looked wrathfully round for something to throw at her visitor's head. But the tea-table was too far away, and the old woman prized her cups and saucers. Finally she took refuge in a spiteful speech. "_She's_ an honest girl." "I sincerely hope so, seeing she is your companion," replied Leah, not caring to take up so ridiculous a challenge. "When did you start her?" "Leah!" Lady Canvey thumped the ground again. "Don't talk slang. If you wish to know, although I don't think it is any of your business, Joan Tallentire came to me two months ago, during which time you have not come to see me." "I was abroad," apologised Lady Jim, stifling a yawn. "Gambling at Monte Carlo, I'll be bound." "I did meet Jim there. He lost heavily on the red. I won, and came home with enough to see me through the last month." "Who were you living on abroad?" asked the old woman, contemptuously. Lady Jim leaned back and placed her muff-chain between two very red lips. "Let me think," she murmured, not put out in the least. "Oh, that little dowdy Australian woman, who is trying to get into society on her husband's money, asked me to stop at their villa." "And you did?" "For four weeks." "And borrowed money, I'll be bound." Lady Jim nodded blandly. "You can't expect me to live with pigs for nothing," she said, with the greatest coolness. "You'd live with the devil and borrow from him, I believe," cried the exasperated Lady Canvey, glaring. "I _do_ live with one," assented her god-daughter; "but he's a stony-broke devil." "More modern flowers of speech!" "I didn't create the language." "You can help using it." "No. People wouldn't understand if I talked like Lady Jane Grey or Elizabeth Fry." "They were good women."