heartily, and said: "Well, well, you know; we English are horribly practical. With us the great question is the land. Out here in the country ... do you know this part?"
"Yes, yes," cried the Frenchmen eagerly. "I see what you mean. The country! the old rustic life of humanity! A holy war upon the bloated and filthy towns. What right have these anarchists to attack your busy and prosperous countrysides? Have they not thriven under your management? Are not the English villages always growing larger and gayer under the enthusiastic leadership of their encouraging squires? Have you not the Maypole? Have you not Merry England?"
The Duke of Aylesbury made a noise in his throat, and then said very indistinctly: "They all go to London."
"All go to London?" repeated Pommard, with a blank stare. "Why?"
This time nobody answered, and Pommard had to attack again.
"The spirit of aristocracy is essentially opposed to the greed of the industrial cities. Yet in France there are actually one or two nobles so vile as to drive coal and gas trades, and drive them hard." The Duke of Windsor looked at the carpet. The Duke of Aylesbury went and looked out of the window. At length the latter said: "That's
