"By the way," enquired Connie, recovering her spirits, "what is Sylvia's exact line just at present? Last year it was slumming; the year before it was poker-work, and the year before that it was Christian Science. What does that sage-green gown mean? Don't tell me she has become a Futurist, or a Post-Impressionist, or anything!"
"I never attempt," replied Lady Adela, closing her eyes resignedly, "to cope with Sylvia's hobbies. At present she is a Socialist of some kind. She is evolving a scheme, I believe, under which the masses and classes are to intermarry for the next twenty years. By that time, she considers, social distinctions will have ceased to exist, and consequently the social problem will have solved itself."
Mrs. Carmyle nodded her head comprehendingly.
"I see," she said, "it sounds a good idea. I shall start looking out in the 'Morning Post' for the announcement of Sylvia's engagement to a plumber. Just half a cup more, please."
Lady Adela now decided to begin the cosy chat. She accordingly discharged what is known on rifle-ranges as a sighting shot.
"By the way, dear Constance, have you and your husband seen much of Dick lately?"
"Oh, we meet him about occasionally," replied Connie, casting about for cover--"at parties, and so on."
"I fear," continued Lady Adela, with what the police call "intent," "that the poor boy is lonely."
"The last time I saw him," replied Connie, "he was entertaining five people to luncheon at the Trocadero. He did n't look lonely."
"There is a loneliness of spirit, dear," replied Lady Adela gently, "of which some of us know nothing. I think it shows that Dick must be feeling lonely if he requires no less than five people to cheer him up."