The Marquis of Glome, who was the head of a clan called “The MacArdells,” was always named the Chieftain by his relations and friends.

“I felt sure it must be,” said the Prophet, decisively.

“Nevertheless it is so extremely difficult, if not impossible, not to try to be what people take you for that I was in a perpetual condition of acting sensibly, against my true nature.”

“How very trying!” murmured the Prophet, mechanically.

“It was, Mr. Vivian.  It often made me fell quite ill.  Nobody but you knows how I have suffered.”

“And why do I know?” inquired the Prophet.

“Because I realised yesterday that you must be almost as silly by nature as I am.”

“Yesterday—­why?  When?”

“When you said to Sir Tiglath that you could prophesy.”

The Prophet stiffened.  She laughed almost affectionately.

“So absurd!  But I was vexed when you said you’d give it up.  You mustn’t do that, or you’ll be flying in the face of your own folly.”

She drew the Aberdeen lean-to, which ran easily on Edinburgh castors, a little nearer to him, and continued.

“At least I felt obliged to seek an outlet.  I could not stifle my real self for ever, and yet I could not be comfortably silly with those who were absolutely convinced of my permanent good sense.  I tried to be several times.

“Didn’t you succeed?”

“Not once.”

“Tch!  Tch!”

“So at last I was driven to the double life.”

“Then your coachman knows?”

“MacSpillan!  No!  I took a cab—­a four-wheeler—­at the corner of the Square, and the name of Minerva Partridge.  It’s a silly name, isn’t it?”

She asked the question with earnest anxiety.

“Quite idiotic,” said the Prophet, reassuringly.

“I felt quite sure it was,” she cried, obviously comforted.  “Because it came to me so inevitably.  I was so perfectly natural—­and alone—­when I invented it.  No one helped me.”

“I assure you,” reiterated the Prophet, “there is no doubt the name is absolutely and entirely idiotic.”

“Thank you, dear Mr. Vivian!  What a pleasure it is to talk to you!  Under this name I have, for a year and a half, led an idiotic life, such a life as really suits me, such a life as is in complete accord with my true nature.  Oh, the joy of it!  The sense of freedom!  If only all other silly girls who look sensible like me had the courage to do what I have done!”

“It is a pity!” said the Prophet, in assent, beginning to be genuinely moved by the obvious sincerity of this human being’s bent towards folly.  “But what have you done during this year and a half of truth and freedom?”

“More foolish things than many crowd into a lifetime,” she cried ecstatically.  “It would take me days to tell you of half of them!”

“Oh, then you mustn’t,” said the Prophet, glancing furtively at the clock.  “Had you come out to be silly yesterday afternoon?”