Kitty, of course, was an Archangel, so was Mrs. Alcot.  Cliffe had belonged to them before his travels began.  Louis Harman was more or less of their tribe, and Lady Tranmore, though not herself an Archangel, entertained the set in London and in the country.  Like various older women connected with the group, she was not of them, but she “harbored” them.

Darrell was well aware that he did not belong to them, though personally he was acquainted with almost all the members of the group.  He was not completely indifferent to his exclusion; and this fact annoyed him more than the exclusion itself.

He had scarcely finished his inspection of the print when the door again opened and Geoffrey Cliffe entered.  Darrell had not yet seen him since his return and since his attack on the government had made him the hero of the hour.  Of the newspaper success Darrell was no less jealous and contemptuous than Lady Tranmore, though for quite other reasons.  But he knew better than she the intellectual quality of the man, and his disdain for the journalist was tempered by his considerable though reluctant respect for the man of letters.

They greeted each other coolly, while Cliffe, not seeing his hostess, looked round him with annoyance.

“Well, we shall probably entertain each other,” said Darrell, as they sat down.  “Lady Kitty often forgets her engagements.”

“Does she?” said Cliffe, coldly, pretending to glance through a book beside him.  It touched his vanity that his hostess was not present, and still more that Darrell should suppose him a person to be forgotten.  Darrell, however, who had no mind for any discomfort that might be avoided, made a few dexterous advances, Cliffe’s brow relaxed, and they were soon in conversation.

The position of the ministry naturally presented itself as a topic.  Two or three retirements were impending, the whole position was precarious.  Would the cabinet be reconstructed without a dissolution, or must there be an appeal to the country?

Cliffe was passionately in favor of the latter course.  The party fortunes could not possibly be retrieved without a general shuffling of the cards, and an opportunity for some wholly fresh combination involving new blood.

“In any case,” said Cliffe, “I suppose our friend here is sure of one or other of the big posts?”

“William Ashe?  Oh, I suppose so, unless some intrigue gets in the way.”  Darrell dropped his voice.  “Parham doesn’t, in truth, hit it off with him very well.  Ashe is too clever, and Parham doesn’t understand his paradoxes.”

“Also I gather,” said Cliffe, with a smile, “that Lady Parham has her say?”

Darrell shrugged his shoulders.

“It sounds incredible that one should still have to reckon with that kind of thing at this time of day.  But I dare say it’s true.”

“However, I imagine Lady Kitty—­by-the-way, how much longer shall we give her?”—­Cliffe looked at his watch with a frown—­“may be trusted to take care of that.”