the conversation became more general. Basil, Mary Addams, Page, and the poet discussed the origin of Art. The poet maintained with vigour that all that was good in nature was due directly to art, that art came out of the vague, a creative force, and lifted nature from mere bestiality into the light of civilisation. Basil maintained the superior interest of nature and the imitative character of art, and the other two followed his lead. Soon the discussion ascended to metaphysical heights, and dealt with the philosophy of æsthetics. Mary dropped out, with a tolerant smile. Alice threw in a vague, irrelevant question now and then, and looked pleased; this was something really intellectual. Mrs. Kerr listened, and blinked with a faintly astonished air; Mr. Kerr and the host devoted themselves to game and currant jelly. The poet showed unexpected ability in dialectic; Basil and Page, who considered themselves philosophers, forgot the rest of the company. Crayven was silent, and turned his champagne-glass round and round with an abstracted look; he did not drink the champagne.
Teresa, rather tired of being talked across by Page and the poet, was studying Crayven's grave face, when, for the third time that evening, he interrupted her scrutiny by meeting it suddenly, with eyes in which now lurked a smile of irony and amusement. She smiled, too,
