vibrated.

"It was this, sir--to mix with no prophets so long as we both should
live. Prophets, she truly said, are low-class, even dirty, persons.
Their parties, their 'at homes' are shoddy. They live in fourth-rate
neighbourhoods. They burn gas and sit on horsehair. Only in rare cases
do they have any bathroom in their houses. Their influence would be bad
for the children when they begin to grow up. How could Corona make her
_debut_"--Malkiel pronounced it debbew--"in prophetic circles? How could
she come out in Drakeman's Villas, Tooting, or dance with such young
fellers as frequent Hagglin's Buildings, Clapham Rise? How could she do
it, sir?"

"I don't know, I'm sure," gasped the Prophet.

"Nor I, sir, nor I," continued Malkiel, with unabated fervour. "And it's
the same with Capricornus. My boy shall not be thrown in with prophets.
Did Malkiel the First start the _Almanac_ for that? Did he foster
it till it went from the poor servant girl's attic into the gilded
apartments of the aristocracy and lay even upon Royal tables for that?
Did he, I say?"

"I haven't an idea," said the Prophet.

"He did not, sir. And I--I myself"--he arranged the diamond pin in his
white satin tie with an almost imperial gesture--"have not followed upon
the lines he laid down without imbibing, as I may truly say, the lofty
spirit that guided him, the lofty social spirit, as Madame calls it.
There have been other prophets, I know. There are other prophets. I
do not attempt to deny it. But where else than here, sir"--the dogskin