ty intimate with
Torrington, isn't he? The Secretary of State for War."

"My father's under-secretary of the War Office," said Frank.

"Now, what sort of a man is Torrington? He's a distant cousin of mine.
My great aunt was his grandmother or something of that sort But I only
met him once, years ago. Apart from politics now, I don't profess to
admire his politics--I never did. How men like your father and Torrington
can mix themselves up with that damned socialist crew--But apart from
politics, what sort of a man is Torrington?"

"I never saw him," said Frank. "I've been at school, you know, Uncle
Lucius."

"Quite so, quite so. But your father now. Your father must know him
intimately. I know he's rich, immensely rich. American mother, American
wife, dollars to burn, which makes it all the harder to understand his
politics. But his private life--what does your father think of him?

"Last time father stopped there," said Frank, "he was called in the
morning by a footman who asked him whether he'd have tea, coffee or
chocolate. Father said tea. 'Assam, Oolong, or Sooching, sir,' said the
footman, 'or do you prefer your tea with a flavour of Orange Pekoe?'"

"By gad!" said Sir Lucius.

"That's the only story I've ever heard father tell about him," said
Frank, "but they say----"

"That he has the devil of a temper." said Sir Lucius, "and rides
roughshod over every one? I've been told that."

"Father never said so."

"Quite right. He wouldn't, couldn't in fact It wouldn't be the thing at
all. The fact is, Frank, that Torrington's coming here tomorrow, wired
from Dublin to say so. He and Lady Torrington. I can't imagine what he
wants here. I'd call it damned insolence in any one else, knowing what
I must think of his rascally politics, what every decent man thinks
of them. But of course he's a kind of cousin. I suppose he recollected
that. And he's a pretty big pot. Those fellows invite themselves, like
royalty. But I don't know what the devil to do with him, and your aunt's
greatly upset. She says it's against her principles to be decently civil
to a man who's treated women the way Torrington has."

"If the women had let him alone----" said Frank, "I know. I know. One of
them boxed his ears or something, pretty girl, too, I hear; but that
only makes it worse. That sort of thing would get any man's back up. But
your aunt--that is to say, my sister--doesn't see that. That's the worst
of strong principles. You neve