taste. They leaned towards the honest and explicit in art, a
picture, for instance, that told its own story, with generous
assistance from its title. A riderless warhorse with harness in
obvious disarray, staggering into a courtyard full of pale swooning
women, and marginally noted "Bad News", suggested to their minds a
distinct interpretation of some military catastrophe. They could
see what it was meant to convey, and explain it to friends of duller
intelligence.

The silence continued. As a rule Lady Anne's displeasure became
articulate and markedly voluble after four minutes of introductory
muteness. Egbert seized the milkjug and poured some of its contents
into Don Tarquinio's saucer; as the saucer was already full to the
brim an unsightly overflow was the result. Don Tarquinio looked on
with a surprised interest that evanesced into elaborate
unconsciousness when he was appealed to by Egbert to come and drink
up some of the spilt matter. Don Tarquinio was prepared to play
many roles in life, but a vacuum carpet-cleaner was not one of them.

"Don't you think we're being rather foolish?" said Egbert
cheerfully.

If Lady Anne thought so she didn't say so.

"I dare say the fault has been partly on my side," continued Egbert,
with evaporating cheerfulness. "After all, I'm only human, you
know. You seem to forget that I'm only human."

He insisted on the point, as if there had been unfounded suggestions
that he was built on Satyr lines, with goat continuations where the