"I was," insisted Westguard sulkily; "and I proved myself an a.s.s by saying so to my aunt. Why in Heaven's name I was idiot enough to go and tell her, I don't know. Perhaps I had a vague idea that she would be so delighted that she'd give me several tons of helpful advice."

"Did she?"

"_Did_ she! She came back at me with Chrysos Lacy, I tell you! And when I merely smiled and attempted to waive away the suggestion, she flew into a pa.s.sion, called me down, cursed me out--you know her language isn't always in good taste--and then she ordered me to keep away from Mrs. Leeds--as though I ever hung around any woman's skirts! I'm no Squire of Dames. I tell you, Rix, I was mad clear through. So I told her that I'd marry Mrs. Leeds the first chance I got----"

"Don't talk about her that way," remonstrated Quarren pleasantly.

"About who? My aunt?"

"I didn't mean your aunt?"

"Oh. About Mrs. Leeds. Why not? She's the most attractive woman I ever met----"

"Very well. But don't talk about marrying her--as though you had merely to suggest it to her. You know, after all, Mrs. Leeds may have ideas of her own."

"Probably she has," admitted Westguard, sulkily. "I don't imagine she'd care for a man of my sort. Why do you suppose she went off on that cruise with Langly Sprowl?"

Quarren said, gravely: "I have no idea what reasons Mrs. Leeds has for doing anything."

"You correspond."

"Who said so?"

"My aunt."

Quarren flushed up, but said nothing.

Westguard, oblivious of his annoyance, and enveloped in a spreading cloud of tobacco, went on:

"Of course if _you_ don't know, _I_ don't. But, by the same token, my aunt was in a towering rage when she heard that Langly had Mrs. Leeds aboard the _Yulan_."

"What!" said the other, sharply.

"She swore like a trooper, and called Langly all kinds of impolite names. Said she'd trim him if he ever tried any of his tricks around Mrs. Leeds----"

"What tricks? What does she mean by tricks?"

"Oh, I suppose she meant any of his blackguardly philandering. There isn't a woman living on whom he is afraid to try his hatchet-faced blandishments."

Quarren dropped back into the depths of his arm-chair. Presently his rigid muscles relaxed. He said coolly:

"I don't think Langly Sprowl is likely to misunderstand Mrs. Leeds."

"That depends," said Westguard. "He's a rotten specimen, even if he is my cousin. And he knows I think so."

A few minutes later O'Hara sauntered in. He had been riding in the Park and his boots and spurs were shockingly muddy.

"Who is this Sir Charles Mallison, anyway?" he asked, using the decanter and then squirting his gla.s.s full of carbonic. "Is it true that he's goin' to marry that charmin' Mrs. Leeds? I'll break his bally Sa.s.senach head for him! I'll----"

"The rumour was contradicted in this morning's paper," said Quarren coldly.

O'Hara drank pensively: "I see that Langly Sprowl is messin' about, too.

Mrs. Ledwith had better hurry up out there in Reno--or wherever she's gettin' her divorce. I saw Chet Ledwith ridin' in the Park. Dankmere was with him. Funny he doesn't seem to lose any caste by sellin' his wife to Sprowl."

"The whole thing is a filthy mess," growled Westguard; "let it alone."

"Why don't you make a novel about it?" inquired O'Hara.

"Because, you dub! I don't use real episodes or living people!" roared Westguard; "newspapers and a few chumps to the contrary!"

"So!--so-o!" said O'Hara, soothingly--"whoa--steady, boy!" And he pretended to rub down Westguard, hissing the while as do grooms when currying.

"Anybody who tells the truth about social conditions in any section of human society is always regarded as a liar," said Westguard. "Not that I have any desire to do it, but if I _should_ ever write a novel dealing with social conditions in any fashionable set, I'd be disbelieved."

"You would be if you devoted your attention to fashionable scandals only," said Quarren.

"Why? Aren't there plenty of scandalous----"

"Plenty. But no more than in any other set or coterie; not as many as there are among more ignorant people. Virtue far outbalances vice among us: a novel, properly proportioned, ought to show that. If it doesn't, it's misleading."

"Supposing," said Westguard, "that I were indecent enough to show up my aunt in fiction. n.o.body would believe her possible."

"I sometimes doubt her even now," observed O'Hara, grinning.

Quarren said: "Count up the unpleasant characters in your own social vicinity, Karl--just to prove to yourself that there are really very few."

"There is Langly--and my aunt--and the Lester Calderas--and the Ledwiths----"

"Go on!"

Westguard laughed: "I guess that ends the list," he said.

"It does. Also I dispute the list," said Quarren.

"Cyrille Caldera is a pippin," remarked O'Hara, sentimentally.

"What about Mary Ledwith? Is anybody here inclined to sit in judgment?"

"I," said Westguard grimly.

"Why?"

"Divorce is a dirty business."

"Oh. You'd rather she put up with Chester?--the sort of man who was weak enough to let her go?"

"Yes!"