'Which,' suggested Trist, 'never go any further.'

'Which never go any further, because their specific gravity is of such trifling importance that they make absolutely no impression upon the tenderest of sympathetic hearts.'

Brenda, who had been listening in a semi-interested way, now made a remark. She was not a brilliant conversationalist, this thoughtful little person, and rarely contributed anything striking or witty to a general intercourse. Her ideas needed the security of a tête-à-tête to coax them forth.

'I think,' she said to Mrs. Wylie, 'that you must be gifted with a wonderful amount of patience, or you would never bother with your young men. The obligation and the pleasure must be all on their side.'

'It is,' put in Trist cynically, 'a sort of mother's agency. We ought to issue a circular for the benefit of provincial parents: "Young men's morals looked after; confidences received and kindly forgotten. Youths without dull female relatives preferred. Address, Mrs. Wylie, Suffolk Mansions, London, and Wyl's Hall, Wyvenwich."'

Mrs. Wylie laughed comfortably.

'I must confess,' she said, 'that the female relatives are a drawback. There are a good many stories to be listened to about hopelessly dull sisters and incapable mothers; but my young men are not so bad on the whole, and I know I do a little good occasionally. Of course there are some who require snubbing at times, and some who are not interesting; but the silent ones are my favourites, and there is only one type of talkative I really object to—a young Scotchman with hard lashless eyes, a square bony jaw, a very small nose, no complexion, and an accent.'

'I know the type,' said Trist; 'he has a theory for everything, including life. Is a hard business man, a keen arguer, and never makes a good soldier.'

'Altogether a most pleasing and fascinating young man,' interrupted Brenda, with a low laugh. 'You are both terribly cynical, I believe, beneath a gentle suavity. It only comes to the surface when you get together and lay aside the social mask. I never met this ideal Scotchman at your house, Mrs. Wylie.'

'No, my dear,' was the decisive reply, 'and I do not think you ever will.'