ers a great deal, and, besides, I'm
quite sure that they both enjoy it very thoroughly. It's their way of
taking recreation, you see, just as a couple of pitmen will try and
pound one another to pieces, just for the fun of the thing. It's only a
case of intellectual fisticuffs, after all."

"Why, certainly," said Brenda, as she rang for tea; "I'm just sure that
Poppa never has such a good time as when he thinks he's tearing one of
Professor Marmion's theories into little pieces and dancing on them, and
I shouldn't wonder if Professor Marmion didn't feel about the same."

"I dare say he does," said Nitocris, remembering what had happened in
the morning; "it's only one of the thousand unexplained puzzles of human
nature. As you know, my father hates fighting in the physical sense with
a hatred which is almost fanatical, and yet, when it comes to a battle
of wits, he's like a schoolboy in a football match."

"It's just another development of the same thing," said Brenda. "Man was
born a fighting animal, and I guess he'll remain one till the end of
time; and with all our progress in civilisation and science, and all
that, the man who doesn't enjoy a fight of some sort isn't of very much
account. Now, here's tea, which is just now a more interesting subject.
Sit down, and we'll talk about vanities. I'm just perishing to see what
Regent Street and Bond Street are like. I don't think I've spent ten
dollars in London yet. I'm twenty-two to-morrow, Niti, and my
grandfather, who is just about the best grandfather a girl ever had,
cabled across to the Napier people, and they've sent round the dandiest
six-cylinder, thirty-horse landaulette that you ever saw, even in
Central Park, and a driver to match--only I shan't have much use for
him, except to look after the automobile. I'll run you round in her
after tea, and you can reintroduce me to the stores--I mean shops; I
forgot we were in London."

Mrs van Huysman, as usual, took a back seat while her daughter dispensed
tea, and did most of the talking. She was a lady of moderate
proportions, and, unlike a good many American women, she had kept her
good looks until very close on fifty. She was full of shrewd common
sense, but she had been born in a different generation and in a
different grade of life, and therefore her attire inclined rather to
magnificence than to elegance, in spite of her daughter's restraining
hand and frankly expressed counsel. She had a profound respect for