looked round the room.

'Oh! Can't you _arrange_ it?'

'Impossible,' he said firmly. 'Quite impossible.'

'Oh well, of course--'

'Impossible,' he repeated, shaking his head.

'Do you go much to the theatre?' she asked conversationally.

'Never. It would interfere with my work.'

'What is your work, exactly?' she asked, with polite interest.

'It's difficult to explain, Mrs Ottley. It takes a great many forms.'

'Oh, yes.'

'Just at this moment I'm a Legitimist--you understand, don't you? We
drink to Queen Mary over the water--and put violets on the statue of
King Charles the Martyr in February, and so forth.'

'Ah. That must be very hard work.'

'Oh, it isn't only that--I'm a kind of Secretary, you see, to the
Society.'

'Really? Really? What fun it must be; I mean how interesting. Can I