my body." Byrton I see meeting them. He
has his driving coat on. Hang it, they're going for some excursion
without me.

_Thoughts while the Professor is talking on the pleasures of
deafness._--Where are they going to? Why didn't they tell me? I think
Bella _might_ have given me some notion. If she's with Milburd, won't he
make fun of _me_? Is he trying to cut me out, or not? If "yes," it's
deuced unfair of him. Bella doesn't look back, or make any sign to me to
come. If I joined them now, should I be _de trop_? No. How can I? It's
all _our_ party generally. They disappear into the shrubbery.

Professor suddenly asks me, "That _you'll_ admit, I suppose."

_Happy Thought._--(As I haven't heard a single word of what he's been
saying, to reply guardedly), "Well, to a certain extent, perhaps--but--"
then I pause, and frown, as if considering it, whatever it is.

The Professor is lost in amazement. "But," he exclaims, "you _must_
admit _that_. By what theory of approximation can you show that we do
not attain to such perfectibility of number; unless you would say, as I
_have_ heard advanced by the Budengen school, that the expression is but
a formula adapted to our human experience."

I wonder to myself what point he is arguing with me. His subject was
Deafness.

_Happy Thought._--(In order to find out where he's got to in his
lecture, ask him). "Yes, but how does this tell upon Deafness."

"I will show you; but it is impossible to discuss conclusions unless we
settle our premisses." [I hear the trap in the stable yard and Byrton
woa-woaing. Bother!] "Will you bring some deep objection to a premiss
which is fundamental ...."

I beg his pardon, which premiss?

_Happy Thought._--Better find out what he _is_ talking about, then
differ from him point blank, and leave the room.

_Happy Thought._--Pair off. Same idea as that excellent parliamentary
arrangement, when you agree to differ with another member, for a whole
session, on every question, and then go away and enjoy yourself.

"The premiss," repeats the Professor, "that you would not admit just
now. I do not say," he adds--[I hear the wheels. Can I jump up and say,
"Excuse me!" and run out. I could if I was a young lady, or an elderly
one. But a man can't do it, specially as President, or Host, without
being rude]--"that you had not good grounds, but what are those
grounds?" Here he plants his _binocle_ on his nose, leans back and
stares at me.

Good Heavens! I