proof of small wisdom in the world.  Anyhow, with numbers there is rough nature’s wisdom and justice.  With numbers ego is inter-dependent and dispersed; it is universalized.  Yet these may require correctives.  If so, they will have it in a series of despots and revolutions that toss, mix, and bind the classes together:  despots, revolutions; panting alternations of the quickened heart of humanity.”

‘Marked by our friend Nevil in notes of admiration.’

‘Mad as the writer,’ groaned Colonel Halkett.  ’Never in my life have I heard such stuff.’

‘Stay, colonel; here’s Shrapnel defending Morality and Society,’ said Captain Baskelett.

Colonel Halkett vowed he was under no penal law to listen, and would not; but Captain Baskelett persuaded him:  ’Yes, here it is:  I give you my word.  Apparently old Nevil has been standing up for every man’s right to run away with . . .  Yes, really!  I give you my word; and here we have Shrapnel insisting on respect for the marriage laws.  Do hear this; here it is in black and white:—­

“Society is our one tangible gain, our one roofing and flooring in a world of most uncertain structures built on morasses.  Toward the laws that support it men hopeful of progress give their adhesion.  If it is martyrdom, what then?  Let the martyrdom be.  Contumacy is animalism.  And attend to me,” says Shrapnel, “the truer the love the readier for sacrifice!  A thousand times yes.  Rebellion against Society, and advocacy of Humanity, run counter.  Tell me Society is the whited sepulchre, that it is blotched, hideous, hollow:  and I say, add not another disfigurement to it; add to the purification of it.  And you, if you answer, what can only one?  I say that is the animal’s answer, and applies also to politics, where the question, what can one? put in the relapsing tone, shows the country decaying in the individual.  Society is the protection of the weaker, therefore a shield of women, who are our temple of civilization, to be kept sacred; and he that loves a woman will assuredly esteem and pity her sex, and not drag her down for another example of their frailty.  Fight this out within you—!”

But you are right, colonel; we have had sufficient.  I shall be getting a democratic orator’s twang, or a crazy parson’s, if I go on much further.  He covers thirty-two pages of letter-paper.  The conclusion is:—­“Jenny sends you her compliments, respects, and best wishes, and hopes she may see you before she goes to her friend Clara Sherwin and the General."’

‘Sherwin?  Why, General Sherwin’s a perfect gentleman,’ Colonel Halkett interjected; and Lord Palmet caught the other name:  ’Jenny?  That’s Miss Denham, Jenny Denham; an amazingly pretty girl:  beautiful thick brown hair, real hazel eyes, and walks like a yacht before the wind.’

‘Perhaps, colonel, Jenny accounts for the defence of society,’ said Captain Baskelett.  ’I have no doubt Shrapnel has a scheme for Jenny.  The old communist and socialist!’ He folded up the letter:  ’A curious composition, is it not, Miss Halkett?’