or
wants war; well, let him have it," was the opinion of a clergyman. She
smiled at such incongruities. "Next time," she said to Mr. Wilcox, "you
shall come to lunch with me at Mr. Eustace Miles's."

"With pleasure."

"No, you'd hate it," she said, pushing her glass towards him for some
more cider. "It's all proteids and body buildings, and people come up to
you and beg your pardon, but you have such a beautiful aura."

"A what?"

"Never heard of an aura? Oh, happy, happy man! I scrub at mine for
hours. Nor of an astral plane?"

He had heard of astral planes, and censured them.

"Just so. Luckily it was Helen's aura, not mine, and she had to
chaperone it and do the politenesses. I just sat with my handkerchief in
my mouth till the man went."

"Funny experiences seem to come to you two girls. No one's ever asked me
about my--what d'ye call it? Perhaps I've not got one."

"You're bound to have one, but it may be such a terrible colour that no
one dares mention it."

"Tell me, though, Miss Schlegel, do you really believe in the
supernatural and all that?"

"Too difficult a question."

"Why's that? Gruyere or Stilton?"

"Gruyere, please."

"Better have Stilton.

"Stilton. Because, though I don't believe in auras, and think
Theosophy's only a halfway-house--"

"--Yet there may be something in it all the same," he concluded, with a
frown.

"Not even that. It may be halfway in the wrong direction. I can't
explain. I don't believe in all these fads, and yet I don't like saying
that I don't believe in them."

He seemed unsatisfied, and said: "So you wouldn't give me your word that
you DON'T hold with astral bodies and all the rest of it?"

"I could," said Margaret, surprised that the point was of any importance
to him. "Indeed, I will. When I talked about scrubbing my aura, I was
only trying to be funny. But why do you want this settled?"

"I don't know."

"Now, Mr. Wilcox, you do know."

"Yes, I am," "No, you're not," burst from the lovers opposite. Margaret
was silent for a moment, and then changed the subject.

"How's your house?"

"Much the same as when you honoured it last week."

"I don't mean Ducie Street. Howards End, of course."

"Why 'of course'?"

"Can't you turn out your tenant and let it to us? We're nearly demented."

"Let me think. I wish I could help you. But I thought you wanted to be
in town. One bit of advice: fix your district, then fix your price, and
then don't budge. T