of dragging them out of their chairs and kicking them round
the room, I don't see how to make them understand it."

"And Mrs. Loveredge?" asked the sympathetic Peter, "is she--"

"Between ourselves," said Joey, sinking his voice to a needless whisper,
seeing he and Peter were the sole occupants of the smoking-room--"I
couldn't, of course, say it to a younger man--but between ourselves, my
wife is a charming woman. You don't know her."

"Doesn't seem much chance of my ever doing so," laughed Peter.

"So graceful, so dignified, so--so queenly," continued the little man,
with rising enthusiasm. "She has only one fault--she has no sense of
humour."

To Peter, as it has been said, men of forty were mere boys.

"My dear fellow, whatever could have induced you--"

"I know--I know all that," interrupted the mere boy. "Nature arranges it
on purpose. Tall and solemn prigs marry little women with turned-up
noses. Cheerful little fellows like myself--we marry serious, stately
women. If it were otherwise, the human race would be split up into
species."

"Of course, if you were actuated by a sense of public duty--"

"Don't be a fool, Peter Hope," returned the little man. "I'm in love
with my wife just as she is, and always shall be. I know the woman with
a sense of humour, and of the two I prefer the one without. The Juno
type is my ideal. I must take the rough with the smooth. One can't have
a jolly, chirpy Juno, and wouldn't care for her if one could."

"Then are you going to give up all your old friends?"

"Don't suggest it," pleaded the little man. "You don't know how
miserable it makes me--the mere idea. Tell them to be patient. The
secret of dealing with women, I have found, is to do nothing rashly." The
clock struck five. "I must go now," said Joey. "Don't misjudge her,
Peter, and don't let the others. She's a dear girl. You'll like her,
all of you, when you know her. A dear girl! She only has that one
fault."

Joey went out.

Peter did his best that evening to explain the true position of affairs
without imputing snobbery to Mrs. Loveredge. It was a difficult task,
and Peter cannot be said to have accomplished it successfully. Anger and
indignation against Joey gave place to pity. The members of the
Autolycus Club also experienced a little irritation on their own account.

"What does the woman take us for?" demanded Somerville the Briefless.
"Doesn't she know that we lunch with real act