“When I think of the Greeks I think of them as naked black men,” said Miss Allan, “which is quite incorrect, I’m sure.”

“And you, Mr. Hirst?” said Mrs. Thornbury, perceiving that the gaunt young man was near.  “I’m sure you read everything.”

“I confine myself to cricket and crime,” said Hirst.  “The worst of coming from the upper classes,” he continued, “is that one’s friends are never killed in railway accidents.”

Mr. Thornbury threw down the paper, and emphatically dropped his eyeglasses.  The sheets fell in the middle of the group, and were eyed by them all.

“It’s not gone well?” asked his wife solicitously.

Hewet picked up one sheet and read, “A lady was walking yesterday in the streets of Westminster when she perceived a cat in the window of a deserted house.  The famished animal—­”

“I shall be out of it anyway,” Mr. Thornbury interrupted peevishly.

“Cats are often forgotten,” Miss Allan remarked.

“Remember, William, the Prime Minister has reserved his answer,” said Mrs. Thornbury.

“At the age of eighty, Mr. Joshua Harris of Eeles Park, Brondesbury, has had a son,” said Hirst.

“. . .  The famished animal, which had been noticed by workmen for some days, was rescued, but—­by Jove! it bit the man’s hand to pieces!”

“Wild with hunger, I suppose,” commented Miss Allan.

“You’re all neglecting the chief advantage of being abroad,” said Mr. Hughling Elliot, who had joined the group.  “You might read your news in French, which is equivalent to reading no news at all.”

Mr. Elliot had a profound knowledge of Coptic, which he concealed as far as possible, and quoted French phrases so exquisitely that it was hard to believe that he could also speak the ordinary tongue.  He had an immense respect for the French.

“Coming?” he asked the two young men.  “We ought to start before it’s really hot.”

“I beg of you not to walk in the heat, Hugh,” his wife pleaded, giving him an angular parcel enclosing half a chicken and some raisins.

“Hewet will be our barometer,” said Mr. Elliot.  “He will melt before I shall.”  Indeed, if so much as a drop had melted off his spare ribs, the bones would have lain bare.  The ladies were left alone now, surrounding The Times which lay upon the floor.  Miss Allan looked at her father’s watch.

“Ten minutes to eleven,” she observed.

“Work?” asked Mrs. Thornbury.

“Work,” replied Miss Allan.

“What a fine creature she is!” murmured Mrs. Thornbury, as the square figure in its manly coat withdrew.

“And I’m sure she has a hard life,” sighed Mrs. Elliot.

“Oh, it is a hard life,” said Mrs. Thornbury.  “Unmarried women—­earning their livings—­it’s the hardest life of all.”

“Yet she seems pretty cheerful,” said Mrs. Elliot.

“It must be very interesting,” said Mrs. Thornbury.  “I envy her her knowledge.”