He could not grasp the least common multiple of the two sides. Yet this man tolerated these women, and, indeed, seemed very kind and friendly towards them. He seemed to possess that sort of competence which rises from the fact of having well-arranged ideas and complete certitude about them.
And at last a pause came. Mr. Vincent set down his cup for the second time, refused buttered bun, and waited.
“Yes, do smoke, Mr. Vincent.”
The man drew out his cigarette-case, smiling, offering it to the two men. Laurie took one; the clergyman refused.
“And now, Mr. Vincent.”
Again he smiled, in a half-embarrassed way.
“But no speeches, I think you said,” he remarked.
“Oh! well, you know what I mean; just like friends, you know. Treat us all like that.”
( Mrs. Stapleton rose, came nearer the circle, rustled down again, and sank into an elaborate silence.)
“Well, what is it these gentlemen wish to hear?”
“Everything—everything,” cried Lady Laura. “They claim to know nothing at all.”
Laurie thought it time to explain himself a little. He felt he would not like to take this man at an unfair advantage.
“I should just like to say this,” he said. “I have told Mrs. Stapleton already. It is this. I must confess that so far as I am concerned I am not a