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It was not so much that he couldn't use what brain he had as trenchantly as ever: it was that there were whole regions of fact upon which he could no longer call in support of his argument. His knowledge of history was still practically negligible: he knew nothing whatever of the humaner letters and, what was far worse, nothing at all of the higher and more sensuous phrases of mathematics. And the coming back of these things was much slower than he had confessed to Sylvia. It was with these disadvantages that he had to face Lord Port Scatho.

Lord Port Scatho was the first man of whom Sylvia Tietjens had thought when she had been considering of men who were absolutely honourable, entirely benevolent...and rather lacking in constructive intelligence. He had inherited the management of one of the most respected of the great London banks, so that his commercial and social influences were very extended: he was extremely interested in promoting Low Church interests, the reform of the divorce laws and sports for the people, and he had a great affection for Sylvia Tietjens. He was forty-five, beginning to put on weight, but by no means obese; he had a large, quite round head; very high-coloured cheeks that shone as if with frequent ablutions; an uncropped, dark moustache, dark, very cropped, smooth hair; brown eyes; a very new grey tweed suit, a very new grey Trilby hat, a black tie in a gold ring, and very new patent leather boots that had white calf tops. He had a wife almost the spit of himself in face, figure, probity, kindliness, and interests, except that for his interest in sports for the people she substituted that for maternity hospitals. His heir was his nephew, Mr Brownlie, known as Brownie, who would also be physically the exact spit of his uncle, except that, not having put on flesh, he appeared to be taller and that his moustache and hair were both a little longer and more fair. This gentleman entertained for Sylvia Tietjens a gloomy and deep passion that he considered to be perfectly honourable because he desired to marry her after she had divorced her husband. Tietjens he desired to ruin because he considered Tietjens to be an undesirable person of no great means. Of this passion Lord Port Scatho was ignorant.

He now came into the Tietjens' dining-room, behind the servant, holding an open letter: he walked rather stiffly because he was very much worried. He observed that Sylvia had been crying and was still wiping her eyes. He looked round the room to see if he could see in it anything to account for Sylvia's crying. Tietjens was still sitting at the head of the lunch-table: Sylvia was rising from a chair beside the fireplace.

Lord Port Scatho said:

'I want to see you, Tietjens, for a minute on business.' Tietjens said:

'I can give you ten minutes...'

Lord Port Scatho said:

'Mrs Tietjens perhaps...'

He waved the open letter towards Mrs Tietjens. Tietjens said:

'No! Mrs Tietjens will remain.' He desired to say something more friendly. He said: 'Sit down.'

Lord Port Scatho said:

'I shan't be stopping a minute. But really...and he moved the letter, but not with so wide a gesture, towards Sylvia.

'I have no secrets from Mrs Tietjens,' Tietjens said. 'Absolutely none...'

Lord Port Scatho said:

'No, of course not...But...'

Tietjens said:

'Similarly, Mrs Tietjens has no secrets from me. Again absolutely none.'

Sylvia said:

'I don't, of course, tell Tietjens about my maid's love affairs or what the fish costs every day.'

Tietjens said:

'You'd better sit down.' He added on an impulse of kindness: 'As a matter of fact, I was just clearing up things for Sylvia to take over...this command.' It was part of the disagreeableness of his mental disadvantages that upon occasion he could not think of other than military phrases. He felt intense annoyance. Lord Port Scatho affected him with some of the slight nausea that in those days you felt at contact with the civilian who knew none of your thoughts, phrases or preoccupations. He added, nevertheless equably:

'One has to clear up. I'm going out.'

Lord Port Scatho