Pillow-propped at her morning studies, the humourist of Pont Street, as she glanced rapidly over the close-printed pages of a trans-Atlantic monthly, had her eye caught by the word “bio-sociological.”  Whom had she heard using that sonorous term?  It sounded to her with the Oxford accent, and she saw Lashmar.  The reading of a few lines in the context seemed to remind her very strongly of Lashmar’s philosophic eloquence.  She looked closer; found that there was question of a French book of some importance, recently published; and smilingly asked herself whether it could be that Lashmar knew this book.  That he was capable of reticence regarding the source of his ideas, she had little doubt; and what would be more amusing than to see “the coming man” convicted of audacious plagiarism?  She wished him no harm; none whatever.  It delighted her to see a man make his way in the stupid world by superiority of wits, and Dyce Lashmar was a favourite of hers; she had by no means yet done with him.  All the same, this chance of entertainment must not be lost.

Having gone down rather earlier than usual, she found Miss Tomalin also studiously engaged, a solid tome open before her.

“My dear May, what waste of time that is!  If you would only believe me that all the substance of big books is to be found in little ones!  One gets on so much more quickly, and has a much clearer view of things.  Why, no end of poor people nowadays make their living by boiling down these monsters to essence.  It’s really a social duty to make use of their work.  Look, for instance, at this article I have just been reading—­’Recent Sociological Speculations.’  Here the good man gives us all that is important in half a dozen expensive and heavy volumes.  Here’s all about bio-sociology.  Haven’t I heard you talk of bio-sociology?”

“But,” cried May, “that’s Mr. Lashmar’s theory!  Has he been publishing it?”

“No.  Someone else seems to have got hold of the same idea.  Perhaps it’s like Darwin and Wallace—­that kind of thing.”

May took the periodical, and read.

“Why, this is astonishing!” she exclaimed.  “There’s a passage quoted which is exactly like Mr. Lashmar—­almost the very words I have heard him use!”

“Yet, you see, it’s from a French book.  This would certainly interest him.  Perhaps he doesn’t see the American reviews.  Suppose I sent it to Miss Bride?  They can read it together, and it will amuse them.”

May assented, and the periodical was addressed to Rivenoak.

Friends came to lunch with them.  In the afternoon, they made three calls.  At dinner some score of persons were Mrs. Toplady’s guests.  Only as the clock pointed towards midnight did they find an opportunity of returning to the subject of bio-sociology.  Mrs. Toplady wished for an intimate chat with her guest, who was soon to leave her; she reclined comfortably in a settee, and looked at the girl, who made a pretty picture in a high-backed chair.