He shook hands with a bishop as he elbowed a path across the room, and
did it with the pious face of a self-respecting curate. The next minute
he was prodding a sporting baronet in the ribs at the precise moment
when that nobleman reached the point of his little story and on the
precise rib where he expected to be prodded. It is always wise to do
the expected.

At the sight of Tony Cornish, Joan's face became grave, and she turned
towards him with her little frown of preoccupation, such as one might
expect to find upon the face of a woman concerned in the great
movements of the day. But before Tony reached her the expression
changed to a very feminine and even old-fashioned one of annoyance.

"Oh, here comes mother!" she said, looking beyond Cornish, who was
indeed being pursued by a wizened little old lady.

Lady Ferriby, it seemed, was not enjoying herself. She glanced
suspiciously from one face to another, as if she was seeking a friend
without any great hope of finding one. Perhaps, like many another, she
looked upon the world from that point Of view.

Cornish hurried up and shook hands. "Plenty of people," he said.

"Oh yes," answered Joan, earnestly. "It only shows that there is, after
all, a great deal of good in human nature, that in such a movement as
this rich and poor, great and small, are all equal."

Cornish nodded in his quick sympathetic way, accepting as we all accept
the social statements of the day, which are oft repeated and never
weighed. Then he turned to White and tapped that soldier's arm