Ada Spelvexit gave up the attempt to reproduce the decorative setting of the Canon’s homelife, and fell back on the small but practical consolation of scoring the odd trick in her opponent’s declaration of hearts.

“If you had led your highest club to start with, instead of the nine, we should have saved the trick,” remarked Lady Caroline to her partner in a tone of coldly, gentle reproof; “it’s no use, my dear,” she continued, as Serena flustered out a halting apology, “no earthly use to attempt to play bridge at one table and try to see and hear what’s going on at two or three other tables.”

“I can generally manage to attend to more than one thing at a time,” said Serena, rashly; “I think I must have a sort of double brain.”

“Much better to economise and have one really good one,” observed Lady Caroline.

“La belle dame sans merci scoring a verbal trick or two as usual,” said a player at another table in a discreet undertone.

“Did I tell you Sir Edward Roan is coming to my next big evening,” said Serena, hurriedly, by way, perhaps, of restoring herself a little in her own esteem.

“Poor dear, good Sir Edward.  What have you made trumps?” asked Lady Caroline, in one breath.

“Clubs,” said Francesca; “and pray, why these adjectives of commiseration?”

Francesca was a Ministerialist by family interest and allegiance, and was inclined to take up the cudgels at the suggested disparagement aimed at the Foreign Secretary.

“He amuses me so much,” purred Lady Caroline.  Her amusement was usually of the sort that a sporting cat derives from watching the Swedish exercises of a well-spent and carefully thought-out mouse.

“Really?  He has been rather a brilliant success at the Foreign Office, you know,” said Francesca.

“He reminds one so of a circus elephant—­infinitely more intelligent than the people who direct him, but quite content to go on putting his foot down or taking it up as may be required, quite unconcerned whether he steps on a meringue or a hornet’s nest in the process of going where he’s expected to go.”

“How can you say such things?” protested Francesca.

“I can’t,” said Lady Caroline; “Courtenay Youghal said it in the House last night.  Didn’t you read the debate?  He was really rather in form.  I disagree entirely with his point of view, of course, but some of the things he says have just enough truth behind them to redeem them from being merely smart; for instance, his summing up of the Government’s attitude towards our embarrassing Colonial Empire in the wistful phrase ’happy is the country that has no geography.’”

“What an absurdly unjust thing to say,” put in Francesca; “I daresay some of our Party at some time have taken up that attitude, but every one knows that Sir Edward is a sound Imperialist at heart.”

“Most politicians are something or other at heart, but no one would be rash enough to insure a politician against heart failure.  Particularly when he happens to be in office.”