table works then, and she came to London to try
and attain some sort of independence. At first she had a position on a
lady's magazine which took up her mornings, but we have just induced her
to accept a small salary and give us all her time." "That seems like a
comprehensive sketch of her life," Sybil remarked, thoughtfully, "but
are you sure--that you have not missed anything out?"

"So far as I know," he answered, gravely, "there is nothing new to
tell."

They walked the rest of the way to Berkeley Square in absolute silence.

"You will come in to lunch?" she said.

He looked down at his clothes.

"I think not," he answered.

"We are almost certain to be alone," she said. "You haven't seen mother
for a long time."

He suffered himself to be persuaded, and almost immediately regretted
it. For there were a dozen people or more round the luncheon-table, and
he caught a glimpse of more than one frock coat. Further, from the dead
silence which followed their entrance, it seemed more than probable that
he himself had formed the subject of conversation.

Lady Caroom greeted him as kindly as ever, and found a place for him by
her side. Brooks, whose self-possession seldom failed him, smiled to
himself as he recognized the bishop, who was his /vis-a-vis/. Hennibul,
however, from a little lower down nodded to him pleasantly, and Lord
Arranmore spoke a few words of dry greeting.

"Your friend Bullsom," he remarked, "has soon distinguished himself.
He made quite a decent speech the other night on the Tariff Bill."

"He has common-sense and assurance," Brooks answered. "He ought to be a
very useful man."

Lord Hennibul leaned forward and addressed Arranmore with blank surprise
on his face.

"You don't mean to say that you read the debates in the House of
Commons, Arranmore?" he exclaimed.

Lord Arranmore shrugged his shoulders.

"Since the degeneration of English humour," he remarked, "one must go
somewhere for one's humour."

"I should try the House of Lords, then," a smart young under-secretary
remarked under his breath, with a glance at the bishop. "There is more
hidden humour in the unshaken gravity of the Episcopal Bench than in
both Houses of Parliament put together."

"They take themselves so seriously," Sybil murmured.

"To our friend there," the younger man continued, "the whole world's a
congregation--and, by Jove, here comes the text."

For the bishop had deliberately cleared his throat, and lean