reflection; "the Return of Agamemnon, for instance."

The Baroness frowned.

"It sounds rather reminiscent of an election result, doesn't it?"

"It wasn't that sort of return," explained Clovis; "it was a
home-coming."

"I thought you said it was a tragedy."

"Well, it was. He was killed in his bathroom, you know."

"Oh, now I know the story, of course. Do you want me to take the part
of Charlotte Corday?"

"That's a different story and a different century," said Clovis; "the
dramatic unities forbid one to lay a scene in more than one century at
a time. The killing in this case has to be done by Clytemnestra."

"Rather a pretty name. I'll do that part. I suppose you want to be
Aga--whatever his name is?"

"Dear no. Agamemnon was the father of grown-up children, and probably
wore a beard and looked prematurely aged. I shall be his charioteer or
bath-attendant, or something decorative of that kind. We must do
everything in the Sumurun manner, you know."

"I don't know," said the Baroness; "at least, I should know better if
you would explain exactly what you mean by the Sumurun manner."

Clovis obliged: "Weird music, and exotic skippings and flying leaps,
and lots of drapery and undrapery. Particularly undrapery."

"I think I told you the County are coming. The County won't stand
anything very Greek."

"You can get over any objection by calling it Hygiene, or limb-culture,
or something of that sort. After all, every one exposes their insides
to the public gaze and sympathy nowadays, so why not one's outside?"

"My dear boy, I can ask the County to a Greek play, or to a costume
play, but to a Greek-costume play, never. It doesn't do to let the
dramatic instinct carry one too far; one must consider one's
environment. When one lives among greyhounds one should avoid giving
life-like imitations of a rabbit, unless one want's one's head snapped
off. Remember, I've got this place on a seven years' lease. And
then," continued the Baroness, "as to skippings and flying leaps; I
must ask Emily Dushford to take a part. She's a dear good thing, and
will do anything she's told, or try to; but can you imagine her doing a
flying leap under any circumstances?"

"She can be Cassandra, and she need only take flying leaps into the
future, in a metaphorical sense."

"Cassandra; rather a pretty name. What kind of character is she?"

"She was a sort of advance-agent for calamities. To know her was to
know