“And by the way,” (looking at his watch), “do not forget the appointment with the elocutionist.”

“But aren’t you coming with me?” demanded Miss Fancy alarmed.  Already she was learning the habit of helplessness—­so attractive to men and so useful to them.

These remarks broke up the luncheon party, which all the guests assured the deprecating host had been perfectly delightful, with the implied addition that it had also constituted the crown and summit of their careers.  Eve and Sissie were prodigious in superlatives to such an extent that Mr. Prohack began to fear for Mr. Softly Bishop’s capacity to assimilate the cruder forms of flattery.  His fear, however, was unnecessary.  When the host and his beloved departed Miss Fancy was still recounting tit-bits of her biography.

“But I’ll tell you the rest another time,” she cried from the moving car.

She had emphatically won the second battle.  From the first blow she had never even looked like losing.  And she had shown no mercy, quite properly following the maxim that war is war.  Eve and Sissie seemed to rise with difficulty to their knees, after the ruthless adversary, tired of standing on their prostrate form, had scornfully walked away.

III

“Well!” sighed Mrs. Prohack, with the maximum of expressiveness, glancing at her daughter as one woman of the world at another.  They were lingering, as it were convalescent after the severe attack and defeat, in the foyer of the hotel.

“Well!” sighed Sissie, flattered by the glance, and firmly taking her place in the fabric of society.  “Well, father, we always knew you had some queer friends, but really these were the limit!  And the extravagance of the thing!  That luncheon must have cost at least twenty pounds,—­and I do believe he had special flowers, too.  When I think of the waste of money and time that goes on daily in places like these, I wonder there’s any England left.  It ought to be stopped by law.”

“My child,” said Mr. Prohack.  “I observe with approbation that you are beginning to sit up and take notice.  Centuries already divide you from the innocent creature who used to devote her days and nights to the teaching of dancing to persons who had no conception of the seriousness of life.  I agree with your general criticism, but let us remember that all this wickedness does not date from the day before yesterday.  It’s been flourishing for some thousands of years, and all prophecies about it being over-taken by Nemesis have proved false.  Still, I’m glad you’ve turned over a new leaf.”

Sissie discreetly but unmistakably tossed her young head.

“Oswald, dearest,” said she.  “It’s time you were off.”

“It is,” Ozzie agreed, and off he went, to resume the serious struggle for existence,—­he who until quite recently had followed the great theatrical convention that though space may be a reality, time is not.