again, which she resented.

"I dislike that cant of the obvious which there is so much of here in
town," she rejoined. "It savours of preciosity. All that is finest in
thought is obvious. A great truth, well put, when heard for the first
time, is so crystal clear to the mind, one seems to have known it
always. No one fears to be obvious who has anything good to say."

He stroked his beard in silence for some seconds. "I suppose you go in
for politics, and all that sort of thing," he said at last.

"Why?" Beth asked in her disconcerting way.

"Oh, judging by your friends."

"Not a safe guide," she assured him. "My friends have the most varied
interests; and even if they had not, it would be somewhat monotonous
for them to associate exclusively with people of the same pursuits."

"Then you do not take an interest in politics?" he jerked out, almost
irritably, as if he had a right to know.

For a moment Beth had a mind to baffle him for his tasteless
persistency, but her natural directness saved her from such
small-mindedness. "If I must answer your catechism," she said,
smiling, "social subjects interest me more. I find generalisations
bald and misleading, and politics are a generalisation of events. I
rarely read a political speech through, and remember very little of
what it is all about when I do. Details, individuals, and actions
fascinate me, but the circumstances of a people as a state rarely
interest me much."

"Ah, I fear that is--er--a feminine point of view, rather--is it not?"
he rejoined patronisingly.

"Yes," she said, "and a scientific method. We go from the particular
to the general, and only draw broad conclusions when we have collected
our facts in detail. But excuse me, I see a friend," she broke off
hastily, seizing the chance to escape.

A little later Beth saw that the demure-looking little person in the
princess bonnet was taking her leave. She passed down the room with
her set little smile on her lips, looking about her, but apparently
without seeing any one in particular till she got to the door, when
her eye lighted on the young man of Shakesperian mien, and her smile
flickered a moment, and went out. The young man turned and looked at a
picture with an elaborately casual air, then sauntered across the room
to Mrs. Kilroy, shook hands with her, spoke to one or two other
people, and finally reached the door and opened it with the same
solemn affectation of not being in a hurry, and disa