"Is your book a novel?" Miss Marchrose enquired of Iris.
Mr. Garrett took the reply upon himself. "An extraordinarily powerful study of man's primitive needs," he explained.
"Iris—Miss Easter—has gone straight down to the very bed-rock of the soil. We present-day pagans are gradually winning our way back to Mother Nature, don't you think?"
Julian involuntarily glanced at his wife at this perverted example of her own theories.
"Perhaps," said Edna very sweetly, "Mother Nature is herself leading us home. One has only to look round one, after all. Personally, I have a tiny, tiny little nature-class which means a great deal to me. And I make everyone join who has one little spark of the Divine Fire, whoever it may be. But then I'm afraid I'm a socialist—a rank, rank democrat."
The announcement provided ample opportunity for the more strenuous form of egotism known as General Conversation.
"Oh, Lady Rossiter!" piped Iris; "but I always say that if the socialists divided everything up and made everyone equal to-day, things would all go back to the old way to-morrow!"
"I must admit that we thinkers are all in favour of democracy as a rule," said Mr. Douglas Garrett, obviously resentful at having to agree with anyone present; "but take the Keltic element alone—perhaps I shall make my point best by putting my own case to you...."
His sombre gaze was fixed upon Miss Marchrose, who brazenly ignored the whole of the last half of his sentence, and said pleasantly that she knew nothing about politics and had always been brought up to believe the whole subject quite unfit for feminine ears.
"This from an emancipated lady who has taken up a business career!" said Edna, with a hint of mockery. "I quite imagined you an advocate of woman's rights, Miss Marchrose."