yhow. He
left it open for Lady Marayne and the venerable butler and Sir Godfrey
and every one to suppose he just happened to be the sort of gentleman
of leisure who doesn't shoot. He disavowed hunting, he made it appear he
travelled when he travelled in directions other than Scotland. But the
fourth question brought him to bay. He regarded his questioner with his
small rufous eye.

"I have never been across a horse in my life, Lady Marayne."

"Tut, tut," said Sir Godfrey. "Why!--it's the best of exercise.
Every man ought to ride. Good for the health. Keeps him fit. Prevents
lodgments. Most trouble due to lodgments."

"I've never had a chance of riding. And I think I'm afraid of horses."

"That's only an excuse," said Lady Marayne. "Everybody's afraid of
horses and nobody's really afraid of horses."

"But I'm not used to horses. You see--I live on my mother. And she can't
afford to keep a stable."

His hostess did not see his expression of discomfort. Her pretty eyes
were intent upon the peas with which she was being served.

"Does your mother live in the country?" she asked, and took her peas
with fastidious exactness.

Prothero coloured brightly. "She lives in London."

"All the year?"

"All the year."

"But isn't it dreadfully hot in town in the summer?"

Prothero had an uncomfortable sense of being very red in the face. This
kept him red. "We're suburban people," he said.

"But I thought--isn't there the seaside?"

"My mother has a business," said Prothero, redder than ever.

"O-oh!" said Lady Marayne. "What fun that must be for her?"

"It's a real business, and she has to live by it. Sometimes it's a
worry."

"But a business of her own!" She surveyed the confusion of his visage
with a sweet intelligence. "Is it an amusing sort of business, Mr.
Prothero?"

Prothero looked mulish. "My mother is a dressmaker," he said. "In
Brixton. She doesn't do particularly badly--or well. I live on my
scholarship. I have lived on scholarships since I was thirteen. And you
see, Lady Marayne, Brixton is a poor hunting country."

Lady Marayne felt she had unmasked Prothero almost indecently. Whatever
happened there must be no pause. There must be no sign of a hitch.

"But it's good at tennis," she said. "You DO play tennis, Mr. Prothero?"

"I--I gesticulate," said Prothero.

Lady Marayne, still in flight from that pause, went off at a tangent.

"Poff, my dear," she said, "I've had a diving-board put at the