"Which of us is simple Jane?" demanded Isbel coldly.

"Simple Jane is the one with the fewer ideas, and pleasant Muriel is the one with the greater number of smiles. You can fight it out between you…Now leave me alone. I'm going to be busy."

"Mr. Judge, are you going to let this unparalleled rudeness pass without rebuke?"

Judge threw out his hands. "What can I do, dear lady? He leaves nothing to catch hold of. Personally, I think it is a very cunning device on his part to draw more smiles from both of you."

"Are you asserting that we are being dull?" asked Blance, retaining her fork with its fragment of food in mid-air, as she stared at him with wide eyes.

"Not dull, certainly. Perhaps a shade more thoughtful than the occasion warrants. I was wondering whether possibly I had said or done something to offend you?"

"How absurd!" exclaimed Isbel. "You of all people."

"Guilty conscience, Billy," said Roger, with his mouth full. "He's done something, but isn't sure if it's been spotted. Out with it, Judge!"

"No, no, that doesn't arise. Since Miss Loment assures me to the contrary, it would be ungallant to carry the matter further."

"Coward!…Moi, I offend Billy on an average once a fortnight throughout the year. A capital creature, but slightly hasty-tempered."

"You've never once upset me in your life, my good man. Whenever you get beyond a certain level of offensiveness, I can see only the funny side…Besides, that's not the point. We were discussing Mr. Judge, not you. To be offended is to be disappointed, and what right have I to be disappointed at anything Mr. Judge may say or do, seeing that I am practically unacquainted with his character?"

Blanche looked up sharply. Judge's face took on a deep flush.

"As far as that goes," he said, after a moment's pause, "I don't know that I'm very different from what I seem."

"That must mean, you never do unexpected things? Everything proceeds with you according to your physiognomy? You must be a very happy man, Mr. Judge."

"And why should he do unexpected things?" asked Roger. "The unexpected is sometimes charming, but nearly always idiotic. Give me a man who can explain his actions afterwards."

"Yes, I suppose that's the man's ideal. It isn't the woman's. We like men who obey the heart occasionally, instead of the head. It's stupid, of course, and we can't defend it, but somehow that's the kind of men we should prefer to have for a friend."

"And why?"

"Because we women count generosity as a virtue, Roger."

Roger drank, and wiped his mouth.

"Then, is an irresponsible person necessarily generous?"

"No, but all I mean is, we admire people who place friendship first, self-interest second."

"It appears that the fair Billy doth know a thing or two!"

Isbel wriggled her shoulders impatiently. "I don't want gifts from friends, but I do want friends who aren't afraid of giving. Surely that distinction is obvious?"

"Quite. What you are suffering from is acute romance. Such interesting persons no longer walk this hard, cold world of ours, if they have ever done so. A man's best friend is his bank balance. You may take that as an axiom."

"I fully believe it." Isbel raised her glass to the level of her face. "So here's long life to money, property, and self!"

"And wine, and women, and smiles, and the blessed sunshine-everything, in short, that makes life worth living! And a bas all metaphysical discussions between living men and women! A special staff of professors has been retained by the world to deal with all that trash."

Having emptied his glass at a gulp, Roger pulled out a cigar, which he proceeded to cut and light with relish. Judge regarded him smilingly.

"You never take things seriously, Mr. Stokes?"

"Yes, my work. But after work I believe in play."

"And no doubt you deserve it. Does he deserve it, Mrs. Stokes?"

"He works like a nigger, I fancy," answered Blanche, negligently. "It runs in the family. His brother Marshall's rapidly axquiring a fortune, and Roger is rapidly acquiring a reputation. Sometimes I feel I should like it to be the other way round."

"So Mr. Marshall Stokes is really clever?"

"They tell me he's a sort of little Napoleon, in his way. Billy's a lucky girl, whether she knows it or not."

"And Mr. Stokes is lucky, too."

"No, no-no gamble about it at all. A man is not a man till he gets married, and if he's unhappy afterwards, it's in all cases entirely his own fault. Look at Mr. Roger Stokes here. He's thoroughly contented with life-it's true he's been a trifle spoilt…Mr. Stokes, your health!…You must come to all my future picnics, if I am fortunate enough to have any more-if only for the sake of your high spirits."

"Then, on the whole, I've given greater satisfaction than the girls?"

"That I didn't say. Some things are outside praise, as you know-the glorious sun, for example. You're the wine of the party, Mr. Stokes, while the ladies are the sunshine."

As the afternoon wore on, Isbel developed a head-ache. She withdrew from the talk, and kept glancing at her wrist-watch; it was nearing two o'clock.

"You look pale, Billy," said Blanche at last.

"My head aches a little."

Everyone manifested sympathy. They decided to pack up and go, and meanwhile Isbel was made to sit in the shade of the trees. When finally they were ready to start for the house, she found herself with empty hands, walking beside Judge.

"May I speak, or would you rather be quiet?" he asked, after a few paces.

"No; please do."

"It's about my house. Why do you want it so badly, Miss Loment?"

She was silent for quite a long time.

"Perhaps it's your friendship I want, and not your house."

"Ah!…But since when…"

"I don't know. These feelings grow, don't' they?

"Yes…but why my friendship?…How have I deserved this?…"

"Then perhaps it is your house I want, after all…Really, Mr. Judge, I know as little about this as you." She lowered her town. "Of course, you know you are an exceptional man? You can understand it must be very flattering for a girl to be friends with such a man."

His face grew dark, but he said nothing till they were nearing the stile, where the others stood waiting for them. Then:

"You have my permission to tell your aunt that she may have Runhill Court at an agreed figure. I won't stand out any longer."

"And this offer is…unconditional?"

"Yes, unconditional."

"You clearly understand-oh, I can't say it…"

"You need not try. I clearly understand everything, and the offer is entirely without conditions."

"Then I will accept it," said Isbel, in a nearly inaudible voice.