It is never pleasant to be cut dead, even when you have done something
to deserve it. It is like treading on nothing where one imagined a
stair to be. In the present instance the pang was mitigated to a
certain extent--not largely--by the fact that Phyllis looked at me.
She did not move her head, and I could not have declared positively
that she moved her eyes; but nevertheless she certainly looked at me.
It was something. She seemed to say that duty compelled her to follow
her father's lead, and that the act must not be taken as evidence of
any personal animus.

That, at least, was how I read off the message.

Two days later I met Mr. Chase in the village.

"Hullo, so you're back," I said.

"You've discovered my secret," he admitted; "will you have a cigar or
a cocoanut?"

There was a pause.

"Trouble I hear, while I was away," he said.

I nodded.

"The man I live with, Ukridge, did what you warned me against. Touched
on the Irish question."

"Home Rule?"