"
"A frivolous turn of mind, I suppose," he replied. "I certainly
prefer to talk art with you."
"But nowadays," she protested, "it is altogether the fashion down
at Chelsea to discard art and talk politics."
"It's a fashion I shouldn't follow," he advised. "I should stick
to art, if I were you."
"Well, that depends upon how you define politics, of course. I
don't mean Party politics. I mean the science of living, as a
whole, not as a unit."
The Princess ambled up to them.
"I don't know what your political views are, Mr. Orden," she said,
"but you must look out for shocks if you discuss social questions
with my niece. In the old days they would never have allowed her
to live in Russia. Even now, I consider some of her doctrines the
most pernicious I ever heard."
"Isn't that terrible from an affectionate aunt!"
Catherine laughed, as the Princess passed on. "Tell me some more
about your adventures last night?"
She looked up into his face, and Julian was suddenly conscious
from whence had come that faint sense of mysterious trouble which
had been with him during the last few minutes. The slight quiver
of her lips brought it all back to him. Her mouth, beyond a
doubt, with its half tender, half mocking curve, was the mouth
which he had seen in that tangled dream of his, when he had lain
fighting for consciousness upon the marshes.
CHAPTER IV
Julian, absorbed for the first few minutes of dinner by the
crystallisation of this new idea which had now taken a definite
place in his brain, found his conversational powers somewhat at a
discount.
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