"Advice!--yes. As much as you like, dear lady. But--"

"But what--" she asked, imperatively, nettled in her turn.

"Well--you must put it prettily!" said Meadows, smiling. "We want a
great deal of jam with the powder."

"You want to be flattered? I never flatter! It is the most despicable of
arts."

"On the contrary--one of the most skilled. And I have heard you do it to
perfection."

His daring half irritated, half amused her. It was her turn to flush.
Her thin, sallow face and dark eyes lit up vindictively.

"One should never remind one's friends of their vices," she said with
animation.

"Ah--if they _are_ vices! But flattery is merely a virtue out of
place--kindness gone wrong. From the point of view of the moralist, that
is. From the point of view of the ordinary mortal, it is what no
men--and few women--can do without!"

She smiled grimly, enjoying the spar. They carried it on a little while,
Meadows, now fairly on his mettle, administering a little deft though
veiled castigation here and there, in requital for various acts of
rudeness of which she had been guilty towards him and others during the
preceding days. She grew restive occasionally, but on the whole she bore
it well. Her arrogance was not of the small-minded sort; and the best