"Women are very like hens," interpolated Fenton; "they always cackle most over the smallest egg."
"If any one of the crew," continued Bently, "could appreciate a fiftieth part of the suggestions in a single sketch of an old master, she might have something to write about."
"But then she would know enough to keep still," said Rangely.
"Oh, a woman never knows enough to keep still," Bently retorted. "It is damned amusing to hear the average American——"
A chorus of protestations arose.
"We'll have nothing about the 'Average American,' Bently!"
"Start somebody else on his hobby," suggested Ainsworth; "that's the only way to choke Bently off. Where's Fenton? I never knew him quiet for so long in my life."
Arthur had been watching his companions and smoking in silence. He smiled brilliantly at Ainsworth's challenge.
"I'm overwhelmed by Bently's oaths," he said. "He outdoes himself to-night."
"When it comes time for Tom's epitaph," observed Rangely, "I shall suggest that it be a dash."