I fancy he sincerely realises how difficult it will be for the rich to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, and he tries to make up for it by being as nice as possible to them in this world." Ronnie held out his hand for the list.
"I think you know most of the others," said Cicely, passing it to him.
"Leutnant von Gabelroth ?" read out Ronnie; "who is he ?" "In one of the hussar regiments quartered here; a friend of the Grafin's.
Ugly but amiable, and I'm told a good cross-country rider.

I suppose Murrey will be disgusted at meeting the 'outward and visible sign' under his roof, but these encounters are inevitable as long as he is in London." "I didn't know Murrey was coming," said Ronnie.
"I believe he's going to look in on us," said Cicely; "it's just as well, you know, otherwise we should have Joan asking in her loudest voice when he was going to be back in England again.

I haven't asked her, but she overheard the Grafin arranging to come and hear you play, and I fancy that will be quite enough." "How about some Turkish coffee ?" said Ronnie, who had decided against the artichoke.
"Turkish coffee, certainly, and a cigarette, and a moment's peace before the serious business of the afternoon claims us.

Talking about peace, do you know, Ronnie, it has just occurred to me that we have left out one of the most important things in our affaire; we have never had a quarrel." "I hate quarrels," said Ronnie, "they are so domesticated." "That's the first time I've ever heard you talk about your home," said Cicely.
"I fancy it would apply to most homes," said Ronnie.
"The last boy-friend I had used to quarrel furiously with me at least once a week," said Cicely reflectively; "but then he had dark slumberous eyes that lit up magnificently when he was angry, so it would have been a sheer waste of God's good gifts not to have sent him into a passion now and then." "With your excursions into the past and the future you are making me feel dreadfully like an instalment of a serial novel," protested Ronnie; "we have now got to 'synopsis of earlier chapters.'" "It shan't be teased," said Cicely; "we will live in the present and go no further into the future than to make arrangements for Tuesday's dinner- party.

I've asked the Duchess; she would never have forgiven me if she'd found out that I had a crowned head dining with me and hadn't asked her to meet him." * * * * * A sudden hush descended on the company gathered in the great drawing-room at Berkshire Street as Ronnie took his seat at the piano; the voice of Canon Mousepace outlasted the others for a moment or so, and then subsided into a regretful but gracious silence.