When Nathaniel came in with Edgar Mottisfont, Stephen dragged himself out of a deep armchair, saying ungraciously: "Got your chair, uncle."

Nathaniel accepted this overture in the spirit in which it was presumably meant. "Don't disturb yourself, my boy. How have you been keeping?"

"All right," Stephen said. He added, with a further effort towards civility: "You look very fit."

"Except for this wretched lumbago of mine," Nathaniel said, not quite pleased that Stephen should have forgotten his lumbago. "I had a touch of sciatica yesterday, too."

"Bad luck," said Stephen.

"The ills the flesh is heir to!" said Mottisfont, shaking his head. "Anno domini, Nat, anno domini!"

"Nonsense!" said Joseph. "Look at me! If you two old fogies would take my tip, and do your daily dozen every morning before breakfast, you'd feel twenty years younger! Knees bend - touch your toes - deep breathing before the open window!"

"Don't be a fool, Joe!" growled Nathaniel. "Touch my toes indeed! "Why, there are some mornings when I should be set fast if I stooped an inch!"

Miss Dean offered her contribution to the discussion. "I do think exercises are the most ghastly bore, don't you?"

"Shouldn't be at your age," said Nathaniel.

"A dose of salts every morning would do most people a great deal of good," said Maud, handing a cup-andsaucer to Stephen.

Nathaniel, after casting a malevolent look at his sisterin-law, at once began to talk to Mottisfont. Mathilda gave a gurgle of laughter, and said: "Well, that's settled that topic, at any rate!"

Maud's pale eyes met hers, uncomprehending, devoid of any hint of humour. "I find salts very beneficial," she said.

Valerie Dean, who was looking entrancingly pretty in a jersey-suit which exactly matched the blue of her eyes, had been taking stock of Mathilda's tweed coat and skirt, and had reached the conclusion that it did not become her.