‘I think I can see him doing it,’ said Mrs. Mallowe pensively, scratching her fox-terrier’s ears.

‘I was properly impressed. Most properly. I yawned openly. ‘‘Strict supervision, and play them off one against the other,” said The Mussuck, shovelling down his ice by tureenfuls, I assure you. ‘‘That, Mrs. Hauksbee, is the secret of our Government.” ’

Mrs. Mallowe laughed long and merrily. ‘And what did you say?’

‘Did you ever know me at loss for an answer yet? I said: ‘‘So I have observed in my dealings with you.” The Mussuck swelled with pride. He is coming to call on me to-morrow. The Hawley Boy is coming too.’

‘ ‘‘Strict supervision and play them off one against the other. That, Mrs. Hauksbee, is the secret of our Government.” And I daresay if we could get to The Mussuck’s heart, we should find that he considers himself a man of the world.’

‘As he is of the other two things. I like The

Mussuck, and I won’t have you call him names. He amuses me.’

‘He has reformed you, too, by what appears. Explain the interval of sanity, and hit Tim on the nose with the paper-cutter, please. That dog is too fond of sugar. Do you take milk in yours?’

‘No, thanks. Polly, I’m wearied of this life. It’s hollow.’

‘Turn religious, then. I always said that Rome would be your fate.’

‘Only exchanging half-a-dozen attachés in red for one in black, and if I fasted, the wrinkles would come, and never, never go. Has it ever struck you, dear, that I’m getting old?’

‘Thanks for your courtesy. I’ll return it. Ye-es, we are both not exactly—how shall I put it?’

‘What we have been. ‘‘I feel it in my bones,” as Mrs. Crossley says. Polly, I’ve wasted my life.’

‘As how?’

‘Never mind how. I feel it. I want to be a Power before I die.’

‘Be a Power then. You’ve wits enough for anything—and beauty!’

Mrs. Hauksbee pointed a teaspoon straight at her hostess. ‘Polly, if you heap compliments on me like this, I shall cease to believe that you’re a woman. Tell me how I am to be a Power.’

‘Inform The Mussuck that he is the most fascinating and slimmest man in Asia, and he’ll tell you anything and everything you please.’

‘Bother The Mussuck! I mean an intellectual Power—not a gas-power. Polly, I’m going to start a salon.’

Mrs. Mallowe turned lazily on the sofa and rested her head on her hand. ‘Hear the words of the Preacher, the son of Baruch,’ she said.

‘Will you talk sensibly?’

‘I will, dear, for I see that you are going to make a mistake.’

‘I never made a mistake in my life—at least, never one that I couldn’t explain away afterwards.’