could possibly be cajoled or bullied into striking, whether they wanted
to or not. The lighter and brighter side of life might now claim some
attention. And conspicuous among the other topics that sprang into
sudden prominence was the pending Falvertoon divorce suit.

The Duke of Falvertoon was one of those human _hors d'oeuvres_ that
stimulate the public appetite for sensation without giving it much to
feed on. As a mere child he had been precociously brilliant; he had
declined the editorship of the _Anglian Review_ at an age when most boys
are content to have declined _mensa_, a table, and though he could not
claim to have originated the Futurist movement in literature, his
"Letters to a possible Grandson," written at the age of fourteen, had
attracted considerable notice. In later days his brilliancy had been
less conspicuously displayed. During a debate in the House of Lords on
affairs in Morocco, at a moment when that country, for the fifth time in
seven years, had brought half Europe to the verge of war, he had
interpolated the remark "a little Moor and how much it is," but in spite
of the encouraging reception accorded to this one political utterance he
was never tempted to a further display in that direction. It began to be
generally understood that he did not intend to supplement his numerous
town and country residences by living overmuch in the public eye.

And then had come the unlooked-for tidings of the imminent proceedings
for divorce. And such a divorce! There were cross-suits and allegations
and counter-allegations, charges of cruelty and desertion, everything in
fact that was necessary to make the case one of the most complicated and
sensational of its kind. And the number of distinguished people involved
or cited as witnesses not only embraced both political parties in the
realm and several Colonial governors, but included an exotic contingent
from France, Hungary, the United States of North America, and the Grand