course, I suppose they are my great-aunts, but I never felt really related to them—but how could he know how terribly unadvanced they are?
Fothy's only real interests center about Art, you know. And if he had talked of Art it would have been better.
But, as he told me later, he thought he should try to meet my people on their own ground and talk of something practical.
Something with a direct bearing on life, you know.
So he asked Aunt Evelyn what she thought of Trial Marriages.
She didn't know exactly what he meant at first, but Aunt Fanny whispered something to her and she turned white and said, "Mercy!"
Poor dear Fothy saw he must be on the wrong track, so he changed the subject and began to tell Aunt Fanny the plot of a new problem play. One of the sex ones, you know.
"Heavens!" said Aunt Fanny, and began to tremble.
And they drew their chairs nearer together and each one took a bottle of smelling salts out of a little black bag, and they sat and trembled and smelled their salts and stared at him perfectly fascinated.
This embarrassed Fothy, but he thought his mis-
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