“Is n't she bloodthirsty? All the seventy of them weltering in their gore! Only the other day she said she would like to slaughter the whole Chinese Empire, because they ate puppies and birds'-nests!” Connie chimed a frivolous remark in tune with Jimmie. Morland, as befitted a coming statesman, took up the parable of the march westwards of the yellow races. Colonel Pawley, who had been through the Taeping rebellion, was appealed to as an authority on the development of the Chinaman. He almost blushed, wriggled uncomfortably, and as soon as he could brought the conversation to the milder topic of Chinese teacups. Successful, he sighed with relief and told Aline the story of the willow pattern. The Royal Academy was forgotten. But Norma felt guilty and ashamed. Nor was she set more at ease with herself by a careless remark of Morland's as Connie's front door closed behind them an hour or so later. “I am afraid you rather rubbed it into poor old Jimmie about the Academy. The little girl looked as if she would like to fly at you. She is a spoiled little cat.” “I have noticed she does n't seem to like you,” answered Norma, sourly. The drive as far as Grosvenor Place, where Norma proposed to pay a solitary call, was not as pleasant as he had anticipated. He parted from her somewhat resentful of an irritable mood, and walked back towards Sussex Gardens through the Park, reviling the capriciousness of woman. Chapter VII--A MAD PROPHET A VIOLENT man, pallid and perspiring, with crazy dark eyes and a voice hoarse from the effort to make himself heard above the noise of a hymn-singing group a few yards to the right and of a brazen-throated atheist on the left, was delivering his soul of its message to mankind--a confused, disconnected, oft-delivered message, so inconsequent as to suggest that it had been worn into shreds and tatters of catch-phrases by process of over-delivery, yet uttered with the passion of one inspired with a new and amazing gospel.