letter was one which his playful mind was competent to develop,
and he had written a deft and amusing introduction. Taking "Joe"
as his subject he had sketched that gentleman's character with a
touch of irony. He had made him a Rhodes Scholar from Indiana
(evoking good-natured protest from Minters) and had carried him
on a vacation to Guilford House, a small hotel in London much
frequented by Rhodes Scholars. There he had made him meet
Kathleen who, with her mother, was staying in London for a few
days. Forbes had a taste for brunettes, and in his description of
the imagined Kathleen he had indulged himself heartily. He found
her to be seventeen, slender, with that strong slimness that only
an English girl achieves; with a straight brown gaze and abundant
dark chestnut hair. She was captain of her school hockey team, it
seemed; she was good at tennis and swimming and geometry; she had
small patience with poetry and sentiment. But within the athletic
and straightforward flapper Forbes thought he saw the fluttering
of deeper womanhood; the maiden soul erecting a barrier of abrupt
common sense about itself to conceal the shy and sensitive
feelings that were beginning to blossom. Such at any rate was
Kenneth Forbes's psycho-analysis, and he developed his chapter
toward a climax where Kathleen and Joe were left walking in
Regent's Park, and the next author would find some difficulty in
knowing how to proceed with the second instalment.

"Well done indeed!" cried Blair, as Forbes laid down his
manuscript and reached for his pipe. There was a general murmur
of assent as the men got up to stretch and talk. Someone punched
the coals into flame, and the bowl of fruit was passed round.

"Who's to write the next chapter?" asked Graham.