the edge of the table-cloth
she was helping to fold. "Perhaps he has his reasons."

The claret had made Mr. Soper not only sociable but jocose. "Reasons?
That's a new name for 'em. If he don't want more than one at a time, I
wish he'd introduce the rest of 'em to me."

"I daresay he would be very happy, if he thought you would understand
them, Mr. Soper."

"Understand 'em? Why, I don't suppose they talk Greek."

"Ryzors," said Spinks indignantly, "could give 'em points if they did.
He speaks the language."

Mr. Soper replied that in that case perhaps Mr. Rickman would oblige
him with the Greek for "crumby bits."

At the moment Mr. Rickman did not look like obliging Mr. Soper with
anything. The provocation was certainly immense. Mr. Soper's voice
inspired him with a fury of disgust. The muscles of his mouth
twitched; the blood rushed visibly to his forehead; he stood looming
over the table like a young pink thunder-god.

Mrs. Downey and Mr. Partridge retreated in some alarm. Mr. Soper,
however, was one of those people who are not roused but merely
disconcerted by the spectacle of passion. Mr. Soper said he supposed
he could "make a 'armless remark." And still thirsting for
companionship he pursued Mrs. Downey to the drawing-room. As he went,
he fingered his little box of bon-bons as if it had been a talisman or
charm.

Rickman poured himself out some claret which he drank slowly, with
closed eyelids, leaning back in his chair. "For God's sake, Spinks,"
he muttered; "don't speak to me."

"All right, old chappy, I won't." But he whispered, "I wouldn't go off
just yet, Ryzors, if I were you" (by "going off," Mr. Spinks meant
departure in a train of thought). "He'll be back in another minute."

He was back already, sociable, elated, smoking a cigar. Upstairs with
the ladies he and his bon-bons had met with unprecedented success.
Rickman opened his eyes.

"Ever try," said Mr. Soper, "a Flor di Dindigul? 'Ave one. You'll find
the flavour very delicate and mild." He held it out, that Flor di
Dindigul, as an olive branch to the tempestuous young man.

It was not accepted. It was not even seen.

Rickman rose to his feet. To his irritated vision the opposite wall
seemed to heave and bulge forward, its chocolate design to become
distended and to burst, spreading itself in blotches on the yellow
ochre. On the face of the hideous welter swam the face of Mr. Soper,
as it were bodiless and alone.

He drew in his bre