taken unawares it had been known to define agnosticism as a heresyof the Early Church and Professor Froude as a distinguished histologist;and such minor members as Mrs. Leveret still secretly regarded ethics assomething vaguely pagan.
Even to Mrs. Ballinger, Osric Dane's question was unsettling, and therewas a general sense of gratitude when Laura Glyde leaned forward to say,with her most sympathetic accent: "You must excuse us, Mrs. Dane, fornot being able, just at present, to talk of anything but 'The Wings ofDeath."'
"Yes," said Miss Van Vluyck, with a sudden resolve to carry the war intothe enemy's camp. "We are so anxious to know the exact purpose you hadin mind in writing your wonderful book."
"You will find," Mrs. Plinth interposed, "that we are not superficialreaders."
"We are eager to hear from you," Miss Van Vluyck continued, "ifthe pessimistic tendency of the book is an expression of your ownconvictions or--"
"Or merely," Miss Glyde thrust in, "a sombre background brushed into throw your figures into more vivid relief. _Are_ you not primarilyplastic?"
"I have always maintained," Mrs. Ballinger interposed, "that yourepresent the purely objective method--"
Osric Dane helped herself critically to coffee. "How do you defineobjective?" she then enquired.
There was a flurried pause before Laura Glyde intensely murmured: "Inreading _you_ we don't define, we feel."
Otsric Dane smiled. "The cerebellum," she remarked, "is not infrequentlythe seat of the literary emotions." And she took a second lump of sugar.
The sting that this remark was vaguely felt to conceal was almostneutralised by the satisfaction of being addressed in such technicallanguage.
"Ah, the cerebellum," said Miss Van Vluyck complacently. "The club tooka course in psychology last winter."
"Which psychology?" asked Osric Dane.
There was an agonising pause, during which each member of the clubsecretly deplored the distressing inefficiency of the others. Only Mrs.Roby went on placidly sipping her chartreuse. At last Mrs. Ballingersaid, with an attempt at a high tone: "Well, really, you know, it waslast year that we took psychology, and this winter we have been soabsorbed in--"
She broke off, nervously trying to recall some of the club'sdiscussions; but her faculties seemed to be paralysed by the petrifyingstare of Osric Dane. What _had_ the club been absorbed in? Mrs.Ballinger, with a vague purpose of gaining time, repeated slowly: "We'vebeen so intensely absorbed in--"
Mrs. Roby put down her liqueur glass and drew near the group with asmile.
"In Xingu?" she gently prompted.
A thrill ran through the other members. They exchanged confusedglances, and then, with one accord, turned a gaze of mingled reliefand interrogation on their rescuer. The expression of each denoteda different phase of the same emotion. Mrs. Plinth was the first tocompose her features to an air of reassurance: after a moment's hastyadjustment her look almost implied that it was she who had given theword to Mrs. Ballinger.
"Xingu, of course!" exclaimed the latter with her accustomed promptness,while Miss Van Vluyck and Laura Glyde seemed to be plumbing the depthsof memory, and Mrs. Leveret, feeling apprehensively for AppropriateAllusions, was somehow reassured by the uncomfortable pressure of itsbulk against her person.
Osric Dane's change of countenance was no less striking than that ofher entertainers. She too put down her coffee-cup, but with a look ofdistinct annoyance; she too wore, for a brief moment, what Mrs. Robyafterward described as the look of feeling for something in the backof her head; and before she could dissemble these momentary signs ofweakness, Mrs. Roby, turning to her with a deferential smile, had said:"And we've been so hoping that to-day you would tell us just what youthink of it."
Osric Dane received the homage of the smile as a matter of course; butthe accompanying question obviously embarrassed her, and it became clearto her observers that she was not quick at shifting her facial scenery.It was as though her countenance had so long been set in an expressionof unchallenged superiority that the muscles had stiffened, and refusedto obey her orders.
"Xingu--" she said, as if seeking in her turn to gain time.
Mrs. Roby continued to press her. "Knowing how engrossing the subjectis, you will understand how it happens that the club has let everythingelse go to the wall for the moment. Since we took up Xingu I mightalmost say--were it not for your books--that nothing else seems to usworth remembering."
Osric Dane's stern features were darkened rather than lit up by anuneasy smile. "I am glad to hear that you make one exception," she gaveout between narrowed lips.
"Oh, of course," Mrs. Roby said prettily; "but as you have shown usthat--so very naturally!--you don't care to talk of your own things, wereally can't let you off from telling us exactly what you think aboutXingu; especially," she added, with a still more persuasive smile, "assome people say that one of your last books was saturated with it."
It was an _it_, then--the assurance sped like fire through the parchedminds of the other members. In their eagerness to gain the leastlittle clue to Xingu they almost forgot the joy of assisting at thediscomfiture of Mrs. Dane.
The latter reddened nervously under her antagonist's challenge. "May Iask," she faltered out, "to which of my books you refer?"
Mrs. Roby did not falter. "That's just what I want you to tell us;because, though I was present, I didn't actually take part."
"Present at what?" Mrs. Dane took her up; and for an instant thetrembling members of the Lunch Club thought that the champion Providencehad raised up for them had lost a point. But Mrs. Roby explained herselfgaily: "At the discussion, of course. And so we're dreadfully anxious toknow just how it was that you went into the Xingu."
There was a portentous pause, a silence so big with incalculable dangersthat the members with one accord checked the words on their lips, likesoldiers dropping their arms to watch a single combat between theirleaders. Then Mrs. Dane gave expression to their inmost dread by sayingsharply: "Ah--you say _the_ Xingu, do you?"
Mrs. Roby smiled undauntedly. "It is a shade pedantic, isn't it?Personally, I always drop the article; but I don't know how the othermembers feel about it."
The other members looked as though they would willingly have dispensedwith this appeal to their opinion, and Mrs. Roby, after a bright glanceabout the group, went on: "They probably think, as I do, that nothingreally matters except the thing itself--except Xingu."
No immediate reply seemed to occur to Mrs. Dane, and Mrs. Ballingergathered courage to say: "Surely every one must feel that about Xingu."
Mrs. Plinth came to her support with a heavy murmur of assent, and LauraGlyde sighed out emotionally: "I have known cases where it has changed awhole life."
"It has done me worlds of good," Mrs. Leveret interjected, seeming toherself to remember that she had either taken it or read it the winterbefore.
"Of course," Mrs. Roby admitted, "the difficulty is that one must giveup so much time to it. It's very long."
"I can't imagine," said Miss Van Vluyck, "grudging the time given tosuch a subject."
"And deep in places," Mrs. Roby pursued; (so then it was a book!) "Andit isn't easy to skip."
"I never skip," said Mrs. Plinth dogmatically.
"Ah, it's dangerous to, in Xingu. Even at the start there are placeswhere one can't. One must just wade through."
"I should hardly call it _wading_," said Mrs. Ballinger sarcastically.
Mrs. Roby sent her a look of interest. "Ah--you always found it wentswimmingly?"
Mrs. Ballinger hesitated. "Of course there are difficult passages," sheconceded.
"Yes; some are not at all clear--even," Mrs. Roby added, "if one isfamiliar with the original."
"As I suppose you are?" Osric Dane interposed, suddenly fixing her witha look of challenge.
Mrs. Roby met it by a deprecating gesture. "Oh, it's really notdifficult up to a certain point; though some of the branches are verylittle known, and it's almost impossible to get at the source."
"Have you
ever tried?" Mrs. Plinth enquired, still distrustful of Mrs.Roby's thoroughness.
Mrs. Roby was silent for a moment; then she replied with lowered lids:"No--but a friend of mine did; a very brilliant man; and he told me itwas best for women--not to...."
A shudder ran around the room. Mrs. Leveret coughed so that theparlour-maid, who was handing the cigarettes, should not hear; Miss VanVluyck's face took on a nauseated expression, and Mrs. Plinth looked asif she were passing some one she did not care to bow to. But the mostremarkable
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