Eustace Vernon was a lad of about eighteen, with a pale, highbred-looking face—a rather shy but pleasant manner. He was an enthusiastic admirer of Petrovitch, and since his first acquaintance with the Socialist had made a point of being present at all the meetings on social subjects that he could get to hear of, and could find time to attend. For even the wild enthusiasm of the revolutionary in his teens will not go the length of working a Buddhist miracle and enabling the youthful devotee to be at more than one meeting at the same time. Petrovitch was amused and a little touched by the lad's undisguised homage—and knowing himself to be responsible for the inflammation of the young man's mind, felt bound to keep watch lest he should get into trouble before his newly-kindled fire had had time to burn itself down into steadiness.

As the meal went on it was noticeable that Vernon's love of liberty was not inconsistent with a child-like devotion to strawberry jam.

Petrovitch might have kept a school of instruction for the benefit of those who are always making such desperate efforts to 'annihilate class distinctions'—efforts which usually take place on Saturday afternoons, and are mostly the dismallest of failures. Under his influence his four guests—born in different parts of the world, and drawn from different social grades—talked together with the ease of club acquaintances.

'I had hoped,' said Petrovitch by-and-by, 'to have had a lady here to pour tea out for you, but fate has been unpropitious; Mrs Toomey was not able to come.'

'I regret her,' said Hirsch. 'It always does me much pleasure to meet our good friend's good wife.'

Toomey looked flattered, but a little uncomfortable under this tribute.

'She would have liked to come,' said he, trying to look straight at the other, but only succeeding in fixing one eye on the Austrian, while the other searched the depths of the jam pot with an obstinacy which made Vernon, who had the same in hand, simmer with warm awkwardness. 'She would have liked to come, but the young woman as lodges with us—that Mrs Let-em-off—is ill, and the missus wouldn't leave her.'

'Ah, Mrs Litvinoff, it is you mean. I willed to ask you of her.'

'I beg your pardon,' said Vernon, glad to join in the conversation, as a means of getting away from Toomey's eye. 'Is that any relation of Count Litvinoff? I know him. Splendid fellow, isn't he?'

'I don't think as she's a blessed countess,' said Toomey doubtfully, while Hirsch cast a significant glance of question at his host.