The Intrusions of Peggy. Anthony Hope

at them!' he answered. 'They are smart and spotless. I'm the only one who looks the part in the least. And, behold, I am frugal, temperate, a hard worker, and a scientific man!'

      'There are believed to be Bohemians still in Kensington and Chelsea,' observed Tommy Trent. 'They will think anything you please, but they won't dine out without their husbands.'

      'If that's the criterion, we can manage it nearer than Chelsea,' said Trix. 'This side of Park Lane, I think.'

      'You've got to have the thinking too, though,' smiled Airey.

      Miles Childwick had apparently been listening; he raised his voice a little and remarked: 'The divorce between the theoretical bases of immorality——'

      'Falsely so called,' murmured Hanson Smith.

      'And its practical development is one of the most——'

      It was no use; Peggy gurgled helplessly, and hid her face in her napkin. Childwick scowled for an instant, then leant back in his chair, smiling pathetically.

      'She is the living negation of serious thought,' he complained, regarding her affectionately.

      Peggy, emerging, darted him a glance as she returned to her chicken.

      'When I published "Myra Lacrimans"——' began Arty Kane.

      In an instant everybody was silent. They leant forward towards him with a grave and eager attention, signing to one another to keep still. Tommy whispered: 'Don't move for a moment, waiter!'

      'Oh, confound you all!' exclaimed poor Arty Kane, as he joined in the general outburst of laughter.

      Trix found herself swelling it light-heartedly.

      'We've found by experience that that's the only way to stop him,' Tommy explained, as with a gesture he released the grinning waiter. 'He'll talk about "Myra" through any conversation, but absolute silence makes him shy. Peggy found it out. It's most valuable. Isn't it, Mrs. John?'

      'Most valuable,' agreed Mrs. John. She had made no other contribution to the conversation for some time.

      'All the same,' Childwick resumed, in a more conversational tone, but with unabated perseverance, 'what I was going to say is true. In nine cases out of ten the people who are——' He paused a moment.

      'Irregular,' suggested Manson Smith.

      'Thank you, Manson. The people who are irregular think they ought to be regular, and the people who are regular have established their right to be irregular. There's a reason for it, of course——'

      'It seems rather more interesting without one,' remarked Elfreda Flood.

      'No reason, I think?' asked Horace Harnack, gathering the suffrages of the table.

      'Certainly not,' agreed the table as a whole.

      'To give reasons is a slur on our intellects and a waste of our time,' pronounced Manson Smith.

      'It's such a terribly long while since I heard anybody talk nonsense on purpose,' Trix said to Airey, with a sigh of enjoyment.

      'They do it all the time; and, yes, it's rather refreshing.'

      'Does Mr. Childwick mind?'

      'Mind?' interposed Tommy. 'Gracious, no! He's playing the game too; he knows all about it. He won't let on that he does, of course, but he does all the same.'

      'The reason is,' said Childwick, speaking with lightning speed, 'that the intellect merely disestablishes morality, while the emotions disregard it. Thank you for having heard me with such patience, ladies and gentlemen.' He finished his champagne with a triumphant air.

      'You beat us that time,' said Peggy, with a smile of congratulation.

      Elfreda Flood addressed Harnack, apparently resuming an interrupted conversation.

      'If I wear green I look horrid, and if she wears blue she looks horrid, and if we don't wear either green or blue, the scene looks horrid. I'm sure I don't know what to do.'

      'It'll end in your having to wear green,' prophesied Harnack.

      'I suppose it will,' Elfreda moaned disconsolately. 'She always gets her way.'