facts which support this view, but very likely your own knowledge
will supply them."

He paused to smile. That was a deft touch. Constance, he knew, took
pride in her scientific studies.

"We shall talk all this over together, I hope. Enough at present to
show you where I stand. Is this attitude likely to recommend itself
to Lady Ogram? Do you think she would care to hear more about it?
Write as soon as you have time, and let me know your opinion."

On re-reading his letter, Dyce was troubled by only one reflection.
He had committed himself to a definite theory, and, should it jar
with Lady Ogram's way of thinking, there would probably be little
use in his going down to Hollingford. Might he not have left the
matter vague? Was it not enough to describe himself as a student of
sociology? In which case--

He did not follow out the argument. Neither did he care to dwell
upon the fact that the views he had been summarising were all taken
straight from a book which he had just read. He had thoroughly
adopted them; they exactly suited his temper and his mind--always
premising that he spoke as one of those called by his author
_L'Elite_, and by no means as one of _la Foule_. Indeed, he was
beginning to forget that he was not himself the originator of the
bio-sociological theory of civilisation.

Economy being henceforth imposed upon him, he lunched at home on a
chop and a glass of ale. In the early afternoon, not knowing exactly
how to spend his time, he walked towards the busy streets, and at