’We must begin by admitting that the ordinary woman hates nothing so much as to have another woman set in authority over her.’  He paused, and laughed lazily.  ’Now, before the triumph of glorious Democracy, only those women kept servants who were capable of rule,—­who had by birth the instinct of authority.  They knew themselves the natural superiors of their domestics, and went through an education fitting them to rule.  Things worked very well; no servant-difficulty existed.  Now-a-days, every woman who can afford it must have another woman to wait upon her, no matter how silly, or vulgar, or depraved she may be; the result, of course, is a spirit of rebellion in the kitchen.  Who could have expected anything else?’

Nancy played with a dandelion she had plucked, and gave sign neither of assent nor disagreement.

‘Mrs. Bellamy,’ continued the young man, ’marvels that servants revolt against her.  What could be more natural?  The servants have learnt that splendid doctrine that every one is as good as everybody else, and Mrs. Bellamy is by no means the person to make them see things differently.  And this kind of thing is going on in numberless houses—­an utterly incompetent mistress and a democratic maid in spirited revolt.  The incompetents, being in so vast a majority, will sooner or later spoil all the servants in the country.’

‘You should make an article of it,’ said Nancy, ’and send it to The Nineteenth Century.’

‘So I might.’  He paused, and added casually, ’You read The Nineteenth Century?’

‘Now and then.’

Nancy felt herself an impostor, for of leading reviews she knew little more than the names.  And Tarrant’s look, so steady, yet so good-tempered, disturbed her conscience with the fear that he saw through her.  She was coming wretchedly out of this dialogue, in which she had meant to make a figure.

He changed the subject; was it merely to spare her?

‘Shall you go to Teignmouth again this year?’

‘I don’t know yet.  I think not.’

Silence followed.  Tarrant, to judge from his face, was absorbed in pleasant thought; Nancy, on the other hand, felt so ill at ease that she was on the point of rising, when his voice checked her.

’I have an idea’—­he spoke dreamily—­’of going to spend next winter in the Bahamas.’

‘Why the Bahamas?’

Speaking with all the carelessness she could command, Nancy shivered a little.  Spite of her ‘culture,’ she had but the vaguest notion where the Bahamas were.  To betray ignorance would be dreadful.  A suspicion awoke in her that Tarrant, surprised by her seeming familiarity with current literature, was craftily testing the actual quality of her education.  Upon the shiver followed a glow, and, in fear lest her cheeks would redden, she grew angry.

He was replying.

’Partly because it is a delightful winter climate; partly because I have a friend there; partly because the islands are interesting.  A man I knew at Oxford has gone out there, and is likely to stay.  His father owns nearly the whole of an island; and as he’s in very bad health, my friend may soon come into possession.  When he does, he’s going to astonish the natives.’