“Ye-es,” Elizabeth agreed doubtfully. “Only I thought that you didn’t want me to join it? At first you were so very—”

“Naturally I had to think it over,” Lawrence said, frowning. It was tactless and stupid of Elizabeth to remind him of his preliminary mistrust of the club, just as he was forgetting about it. “I should be a pretty sort of father if I gave my consent to all your schemes without sleeping on them first. If I remember rightly you had already suggested staying at home when I finally decided that it would be very nice for you to go.”

“Only because you—”

“Don’t argue with your father, darling,” Miss Arden interposed.

“And,” Lawrence went on triumphantly, “I advised you to join the club. If I hadn’t done that, in all probability you would have stayed at home. Then you wouldn’t have met Ramsay. I must say I am very pleased about that. I read his two books with great interest and I shall like to meet him.”

“He lives in the country,” said Elizabeth. “I don’t think he comes to London much.”

“He’ll come fast enough if there’s an attraction,” answered Lawrence playfully. “I have a shrewd notion that my little girl was a great success last night.”

Elizabeth tried not to think that her teeth were on edge; she smiled, but shook her head.

“Ah, well, we shall see!” Lawrence said. “Heaven knows I’m not a lion-hunter. Ramsay can stay away or come to call: it’s all one to me. And whom else did you meet last night?”

“Oh, lots of people!” Elizabeth said vaguely. “Mr. Ramsay’s sister was there with her husband.”

“Was she indeed?” Lawrence was becoming more and more complacent. “How did she strike you?”

Elizabeth hesitated, and then compromised.

“I thought she seemed very clever.”

“I daresay,” Lawrence said wisely. “You liked her?”

“N-no, I don’t think I did. She asked me to go to tea with her one day.”

“How extremely kind!” he exclaimed. “And pray what is your objection to this lady, Elizabeth?”

“It’s—it’s hard to explain. She has such an—offhand, curt manner.”

“My dear Elizabeth, you shouldn’t judge people on their exteriors,” Lawrence said severely. “I don’t like to hear my little girl flatly condemning someone because she has a queer manner. Then again one has to make allowances for people with brains.”

“Why?” Elizabeth asked.

This floored Lawrence completely; he took refuge behind a convenient snub.

“My dear child, if you think a minute you will see how silly that question is. Much—er—much is forgiven a genius.”

“Oh, I don’t think she’s a genius!” Elizabeth said.

“Certainly not. I wasn’t suggesting such a thing. Don’t fall into that bad habit of catching people up, I beg of you. It’s most unbecoming. All I meant was that Mrs.—Mrs.—”

“—Ruthven.”