so how--oh, most interesting."

The man of business smiled. Since his wife's death he had almost doubled
his income. He was an important figure at last, a reassuring name on
company prospectuses, and life had treated him very well. The world
seemed in his grasp as he listened to the River Thames, which still
flowed inland from the sea. So wonderful to the girls, it held no
mysteries for him. He had helped to shorten its long tidal trough by
taking shares in the lock at Teddington, and if he and other capitalists
thought good, some day it could be shortened again. With a good dinner
inside him and an amiable but academic woman on either flank, he felt
that his hands were on all the ropes of life, and that what he did not
know could not be worth knowing.

"Sounds a most original entertainment!" he exclaimed, and laughed in
his pleasant way. "I wish Evie would go to that sort of thing. But she
hasn't the time. She's taken to breeding Aberdeen terriers--jolly little
dogs."

"I expect we'd better be doing the same, really."

"We pretend we're improving ourselves, you see," said Helen a little
sharply, for the Wilcox glamour is not of the kind that returns, and she
had bitter memories of the days when a speech such as he had just made
would have impressed her favourably. "We suppose it a good thing to
waste an evening once a fortnight over a debate, but, as my sister says,
it may be better to breed dogs."

"Not at all. I don't agree with your sister. There's nothing like a
debate to teach one quickness. I often wish I had gone in for them when
I was a youngster. It would have helped me no end."

"Quickness--?"

"Yes. Quickness in argument. Time after time I've missed scoring a point
because the other man has had the gift of the gab and I haven't. Oh, I
believe in these discussions."

The patronising tone, thought Margaret, came well enough from a man who
was old enough to be their father. She had always maintained that Mr.
Wilcox had a charm. In times of sorrow or emotion his inadequacy had
pained her, but it was pleasant to listen to him now, and to watch his
thick brown moustache and high forehead confronting the stars. But Helen
was nettled. The aim of their debates she implied was Truth.

"Oh yes, it doesn't much matter what subject you take," said he.

Margaret laughed and said, "But this is going to be far better than the
debate itself." Helen recovered herself and laughed too. "No, I won't go
on," she decl