t Mr. Prohack had bluntly postponed that, and thus
the leisure was wasted.

Without consulting Mr. Prohack's wishes, Ozzie drew the ladies towards
the great lounge, and Mr. Prohack at a distance unwillingly after them.
In the lounge so abundantly enlarged and enriched since the days of the
celebrated Felix Babylon, the founder of the hotel, post-lunch coffee
was merging into afternoon tea. The number of idle persons in the world,
and the number of busy persons who ministered to them, and the number of
artistic persons who played voluptuous music to their idleness, struck
Mr. Prohack as merely prodigious. He had not dreamed that idleness on so
grandiose a scale flourished in the city which to him had always been a
city of hard work and limited meal-hours. He saw that he had a great
deal to learn before he could hope to be as skilled in idleness as the
lowest of these experts in the lounge. He tapped his foot warningly. No
effect on his women. He tapped more loudly, as the hatred of being in a
hurry took possession of him. Eve looked round with a delightful
placatory smile which conjured an answering smile into the face of her
husband.

He tried to be irritated after smiling, and advancing said in a would-be
fierce tone:

"If this lunch lasts much longer I shall barely have time to dress for
dinner."

But the effort was a failure--so complete that Sissie laughed at him.

He had expected that in the car his women would relate to him the
sayings and doings of Ozzie Morfey in relation to the United League of
all the Arts. But they said not a syllable on the matter. He knew they
were hiding something formidable from him. He might have put a question,
but he was too proud to do so. Further, he despised them because they
essayed to discuss Lady Massulam impartially, as though she was just a
plain body, or nobody at all. A nauseating pretence on their part.

Crossing a street, the car was held up by a procession of unemployed,
with guardian policemen, a band consisting chiefly of drums, and a
number of collarless powerful young men who shook white boxes of coppers
menacingly in the faces of passers-by.

"Instead of encouraging them, the police ought to forbid these
processions of unemployed," said Eve gravely. "They're becoming a
perfect nuisance."

"Why!" said Mr. Prohack, "this car of yours is a procession of
unemployed."

This sardonic pleasantry pleased Mr. Prohack as much as it displeased
Mrs. Prohack. It seemed