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“Not know? Why, he’ll know all about it. That fellow Worthington—you know who I mean, the chap that went on that commission to India—well, he’s a knowledgeable sort of chap, and he asked me the other day at the Club if Dr. Sinclair of Cambridge wasn’t a son-in-law of mine, and he said that he’d been making the most wonderful discoveries lately.”

“What’s the use of discoveries—of Harry’s, at any rate? They do no one any good,” said the Doña sullenly.

“Oh, I don’t know; there’s no knowing what these things mayn’t lead to—they may teach us to improve the human stock and all sorts of things”; and then Dick applied himself to the more interesting subject of his fried sole, oblivious, in spite of years of experience, that his remark had horrified his wife by its impious heresy.

However, her only comment was an ironical smile.

“To learn to know people through flowers—what a lovely idea,” mused Jollypot, who was too absent-minded to be tactful. “I think it is his work among flowers that makes Dr. Sinclair so—so——”