that Bayswater is the best of all possible places in it. So, though she
was quite deaf to many of the chords in Tyson's being, her soul responded
instantly to the note of "town." And when she discovered that Tyson had
met and, what is more, dined with her old friends the Blundell-Thompsons
"of Bombay," her satisfaction knew no bounds.

At any rate, Tyson had not been very long at Thorneytoft before Mrs.
Wilcox found herself arguing with Mr. Wilcox. She herself was impervious
to argument, and owing to her rapt inconsequence it was generally
difficult to tell what she would be at. This time, however, she seemed
to be defending Mr. Nevill Tyson from unkind aspersions.

"Of course, all young men are likely to be wild; but Mr. Tyson is not a
young man."

"Therefore Mr. Tyson is not likely to be wild. Do you know you are guilty
of the fallacy known to logicians as illicit process of the major?"

Mrs. Wilcox looked up in some alarm. The term suggested anything from a
court-martial to some vague impropriety.

"The Major? Major who?" she inquired, deftly recovering her mental
balance. "Where is he?"

"Somewhere about the premises, I fancy," said Mr. Wilcox, dryly. When all
argument failed he had still a chastened delight in mystifying the poor
lady.

Mrs. Wilcox looked out of the window. "Oh, I see; you mean Captain
Stanistreet." She smiled; for where Captain Stanistreet was Mr. Nevill