Miss Bawtrey, an American who went everywhere; and Moorsome, the
landscape-painter, a short, very heavy man who went nowhere, and that
in almost perfect silence, which he afterward avenged. By a train almost
sure to bring no one else came Literature in Public Affairs, alone,
Henry Wiltram, whom some believed to have been the very first to have
ideas about the land. He was followed in the last possible train by
Cuthcott, the advanced editor, in his habitual hurry, and Lady Maude
Ughtred in her beauty. Clara was pleased, and said to Stanley, while
dressing, that almost every shade of opinion about the land was
represented this week-end. She was not, she said, afraid of anything,
if she could keep Henry Wiltram and Cuthcott apart. The House of Commons
men would, of course, be all right. Stanley assented: "They'll be 'fed
up' with talk. But how about Britto--he can sometimes be very nasty, and
Cuthcott's been pretty rough on him, in his rag."

Clara had remembered that, and she was putting Lady Maude on one side of
Cuthcott, and Moorsome on the other, so that he would be quite safe at
dinner, and afterward--Stanley must look out!

"What have you done with Nedda?" Stanley asked.

"Given her to Colonel Martlett, with Sir John Fanfar on the other
side; they both like something fresh." She hoped, however, to foster
a discussion, so that they might really get further this week-end; the
opportunity was too good to throw away.

"H'm!" Stanley murmured. "Felix said some very queer things the other
night. He, too, might make ructions."

Oh, no!--Clara persisted--Felix had too much good taste. She thought