iv

"What I should like to do," explained Claudia, "would be to re-shuffle the world a little. I could do it so nicely. I'd separate people under forty and people over forty. They could meet, and talk, and the people over forty wouldn't be made to feel they were quite useless; but they shouldn't have any power over the younger ones."

"It would be a splendid idea." Patricia was eagerly responsive.

"For a month," agreed Mrs. Mayne, with her natural irony.

"For always," firmly insisted Claudia. "Oh, you'd see a change."

"Forty in years?" asked Edgar. "Isn't that rather arbitrary?"

"I didn't mean I'd destroy them. Only separate them."

Edgar laughed a little.

"I believe you'd have a reactionary 'left' even then," he said, agreeably. "And a revolutionary 'right,' too. And another thing, Claudia ... you don't take into account the fact that some quite young people are obscurantist. When you think of young people you always think of yourself. Never of Johnny Rix or Daphne Petton...."

"Oh, but they're awful! I'd expose them at birth!" declared Claudia.

Edgar was unconvinced. He shook his head.

"You can't be everywhere at once," he warned.

"Well, there's Miss Quin...."

"Two of you—against a multitude."

"You're hopelessly cynical, Edgar. Miss Quin, he's a Pyrrhonist, I find."

"Good gracious!" Patricia was astounded. "What's that?"

"Nothing. Simply nothing at all."

"Inhuman?" asked Patricia, hopefully.

"Perfectly. I forget whether it comes from a man or a place; but he doesn't believe in anything at all. It's a ghastly state of mind to be in."

"Really, Claudia; you're too sweeping," protested Mrs. Mayne. "Anybody would think Edgar wasn't the kindest and best——"

"Oh, ever so good. Good unbelievably. Kind.... Frightfully interested in the insect world of human beings. Considerate—as few men are considerate—to the poor creatures who live around him."

"And very tolerant of Claudia," pursued Mrs. Mayne, turning to Patricia. "Oh, dear, this fish is over-cooked, Rachel, and I particularly.... However, it's no good grumbling.... I hope you'll like it, my dear. We have a very good fishmonger, and a very good cook, too; but ... Edgar, I wish you'd speak for yourself. Claudia will give Miss Quin such a peculiar...."

"He doesn't care ..." Claudia looked across at her brother. "Do you?"

Patricia could tell that he did not care. He was quite unconcerned. A slight grimness came into her expression. She wished him less unconcerned. She would have liked to believe in Edgar's susceptibility to pain. As it was, he seemed invulnerable. Patricia turned once more to Claudia with great sympathy and friendliness.

"I think your idea's very attractive," she said. "About the division."

Mr. Mayne gave a short, rather sardonic laugh.

"Wine's corked," he remarked. "Take it away, Rachel. And bring another bottle. With the chill off. Properly. Not roasted...."

Patricia lost her head. A tremulous twitching seized the corners of her mouth. She tried to control herself, and became desperate in the effort. In another instant she felt that she must giggle. Fortunately there came a diversion which saved her.

"Miaow!" cried Percy, from outside the door.

"What a menagerie it is!" said Mr. Mayne, in a savage tone. "It's incredible! Let him in, let him in! Of course, it's the fish. I never knew a cat...." His voice, even in this protest, was very low. He spoke as hushedly as a man telling a tale of horror.

It was then that Patricia saw that behind his ferocious air Mr. Mayne could hardly restrain his own ridiculous laughter. She looked swiftly round the table, from one to the other, from Edgar, to whom her glance first went, to Claudia, at his side. All were smiling, as if good-naturedly and at something absurd. Uncontrollably she laughed a little, thankful to find that they were not even solemn. And as she did this Percy appeared. Patricia had a glimpse of brilliant eyes and a huge waving tail which stood high above Percy's body as he made a leisurely entrance.