ANGEL PAVEM EN f

husband. Mr. Golspie was there, and very much at his
ease, putting away a very ungentlemanly quantity of
bread under that great moustache of his. On Mr,
Golspie's right were Mrs. Dersingham, Major Trape,
and Mrs. Pearson, and on the other side were Miss
Verever, Mr. Pearson, and Mrs. Trape.

"And how/' said Miss Verever to Mrs. Dcrsingham,
"did you enjoy your Norfolk holiday this summer?
You never told me that, and I've been dying to know,"
The smile that accompanied this statement announced
that Miss Verever could not imagine a more idiotic or
boring topic, that you would be insufferably dull if you
answered her question and terribly rude if you didn't.
"Not bad," Mrs. Dersingham shouted desperately.
"In fact, quite good, on the whole. Rather cold, you
know."

"Really, you found it cold?" And you would have
sworn that the speaker meant to suggest that the cold
had obviously been manufactured for you and that it
served you right.

At the other end of the table, Major Trape and his
host were talking about football, across Mrs. Pearson,
who nodded and smiled and shook her mysterious curls
all the time, to show that she was not really being left
out.

"Do you ever watch rugger, Golspie?" Mr. Dersing-
, ham demanded down the table.

"What, Rugby? Haven't seen a match for years/1 re-
plied Mr. Golspie. "Prefer the other kind when I do
watch one."

Major Trape raised his eyebrows, "What, you a
soccah man? Not this professional stuff? Don't tell me
you like that."