“Why, there you are!” exclaimed the baronet.  “That’s just what I’m afraid of.  It’s the beginning of tyranny.  It’ll mean the bad work of a monopoly, instead of the good to be had by free competition.  You favour this kind of thing, Mr. Lashmar?”

“In so far as it signifies growth of the ideas of citizenship, and of association.  But it interests me much less than purely educational questions.  Whatever influence I may gain will be used towards a thorough reconstruction of our system of popular schooling.  I believe nothing serious can be done until we have a truly civic education for the masses of the people.”

This was the outcome of Lashmar’s resolve to be practical, whilst adhering to his philosophy.  He knew that it sounded well, this demand for educational reform; however vague in reality, it gave the ordinary hearer a quasi-intelligible phrase to remember and repeat.  Sir William Amys was not proof against the plausibility of such words:  he admitted that one might do worse than devote oneself to that question; popular schooling, heaven knew, being much in need of common-sense reform.  Dyce tactfully pressed his advantage.  He ridiculed the extravagance of educationalism run mad, its waste of public money, the harm it does from a social point of view; and, the longer he spoke, the better pleased was Sir William to hear him.  Their hostess, silent and closely attentive, smiled with satisfaction.  Constance, meanwhile, noted the countenance of May Tomalin, which exhibited the same kind of pleased approval.—­Only a day or two ago, May, speaking on this subject, had expressed views diametrically opposite.

After luncheon, Lady Ogram held Lashmar in talk, whilst the two young ladies conversed with the baronet apart.  Dyce had hoped for a little gossip with Miss Tomalin, but no chance offered; discretion bade him take leave before Sir William had given sign of rising.

“I don’t know how long we shall be in town,” said Lady Ogram, who did not seek to detain him, “but of course we shall see you again.  We shall generally be at home at five o’clock.”

He had hoped for a more definite and a more cordial invitation.  Issuing into Albemarle Street, he looked vaguely about him, and wondered how he should get through the rest of the afternoon.  A dull sky hastened the failure of his spirits; when, in a few minutes, rain began to fall, he walked on under his umbrella, thoroughly cheerless and objectless.  Then it struck him that he would go presently to Pont Street; Mrs. Toplady might help him to solve the mystery of Lady Ogram’s niece.

Confound Lady Ogram’s niece!  Her appearance could not have been more inopportune.  The old woman was obviously quite taken up with her, and, as likely as not, would lose all her interest in politics.  Here was the explanation of her not having answered his last long letter.  Confound Miss—­what was her foolish name?—­Tomalin!