‘Or pull the beard of William,’ I added sarcastically.

‘Until I met her,’ he went on fiercely, ’I was entirely a democrat.  But now I see that once power gets into the hands of the common people we are damned!’

‘But what has all this to do with your flirting with Elizabeth?’ I demanded.

He seemed so overcome at this very natural comment on my part that for a moment I thought he was going to have a seizure of some sort.  ‘I—­I—­flirt, and with Elizabeth?’ he repeated when he had slightly recovered himself.  ‘Madame, what do you mean to insinuate?’

He drew himself up to his full height of six feet three, and, looking at him as he towered above me with his mane of disordered hair and flowing beard, I could not help thinking he rather resembled Samson in one of his peevish moods.  The indignation that possessed him seemed sincere enough, but the circumstances of the case utterly bewildered me.  I was gazing at him in perplexity when Henry came out of the study.

’What’s all this parleying in the hall, noise without, voices heard “off,” and so forth?’ he demanded.

William gave me such an agonized look of entreaty I decided I would say nothing about what had just occurred.  ’It is only I endeavouring to get our friend William to rub his feet on the mat,’ I retorted cheerfully.  ‘But let us go into the consulting chamber.’

[Illustration:  Henry, being a Scotsman, likes argument.]

William followed me into the study and took his usual seat at the fireside in a dejected manner.  Then went through a strange gymnastic.

He had just started to swing his feet up to the mantelpiece when he paused with them in mid-air and brought them down again.  The arrested action had a droll effect.

‘Have a smoke,’ said Henry, pretending not to notice this peculiar conduct and pushing the tobacco jar towards him.

‘No thanks, old man,’ he replied.  ‘I’m giving up smoking—­for a time.’

It was now Henry’s turn to look surprised.  ‘Giving up smoking,’ he ejaculated.  ‘What’s wrong—­is it your liver?’

‘No, no, my liver’s all right.’

‘Your lungs, then?’

‘Of course, not.’

‘It surely can’t be your heart?’

William began to look annoyed.  ’Look here, can’t I go without a smoke for once without my entire anatomy being held up for discussion?’ He then produced a cigarette and proceeded to light it.

‘I thought you’d given up smoking,’ commented the puzzled Henry.

‘Do you call this smoking?’ he replied in disgust.  ’You might as well give lemonade to a man who asks for a brandy and soda and tell him it’s just as good.’

‘Then why renounce your pipe at all?’ asked Henry, still mystified.

‘I’ve decided to go through a sort of mental training,’ replied William, speaking rather quickly and avoiding my eye.  ’I think a man has no right to become the slave of habit.  Directly he feels he is dropping into a groove he ought to face about and go in exactly the opposite direction.’