professional hostess, to see that her guests were properly seated
before she devoted herself to the Cabinet Minister. She had a word or
two to say to nearly every one of them.

"I have put you next Miss Conyers, Ronnie," she remarked, "because we
give all the good things to our men when they come home from the war.
And I have put you next Olive, Ralph," she went on, turning to the
sailor, "because I hear you are expecting to get your ship to-day or
to-morrow, so you, too, have to be spoiled a little. As a general
rule I don't approve of putting engaged people together, it
concentrates conversation so. And, Lord Romsey," she added, turning
to her neighbour, "please don't imagine for a moment that I am going
to break my promise. We are going to talk about everything in the
world except the war. I know quite well that if Ronnie has had any
particularly thrilling experiences, he won't tell us about them, and
I also know that your brain is packed full of secrets which nothing
in the world would induce you to divulge. We are going to try and
persuade Madame to tell us about her new play," she concluded,
smiling at the French actress, "and there are so many of my friends
on the French stage whom I must hear about."

Lord Romsey commenced his luncheon with an air of relief. He was a
man of little more than middle-age, powerfully built, inclined to be
sombre, with features of a legal type, heavily jawed. "Always
tactful, dear hostess," he murmured. "As a matter of fact, nothing
but the circumstance that it was your invitation and that Madame
Selarne was to be present, brought me here to-day. It is so hard to
avoid speaking of the great things, and for a man in my position," he
added, dropping his voice a little, "so difficult to say anything
worth listening to about them, without at any rate the semblance of