'Yes, I can. Besides I shan't see her!'
'But you will'—Lady John glanced at the clock. 'She'll be here in an hour.'
He jumped up delighted. 'What? To-day. The future Mrs. Stonor!'
'Yes,' said his hostess, with a harassed air. 'Unfortunately we had one or two people already asked for the week and——'
'And I go and invite myself to luncheon! Lady John.' He pushed back the armchair like one who clears the field for action. He stood before her with his legs wide apart, and a look of enterprise on his face. 'You can buy me off! I'll promise to remove myself in five minutes if you'll put in a word for me.'
'Ah!' Lady John shook her head. 'Mr. Stonor inspires a similar enthusiasm in so many young——'
'They haven't studied the situation as I have.' He sat down to explain his own excellence. 'They don't know what's at stake. They don't go to that hole Dutfield, as I did, just to hear his Friday speech.'
'But you were rewarded. My niece, Jean, wrote me it was "glorious."'
'Well, you know, I was disappointed,' he said judicially. 'Stonor's too content just to criticize, just to make his delicate pungent fun of the men who are grappling—very inadequately of course—still grappling with the big questions. There's a carrying power'—he jumped to his feet again and faced an imaginary audience—'some of Stonor's friends ought to point it out—there's a driving power in the poorest constructive policy that makes the most brilliant criticism look barren.'