said Argyle, in his musical, indifferent voice. "Yes, Bella's her name. And if you can tell me a damneder name for a dog, I shall listen, I assure you, attentively."
"But you haven't got an aunt called Tabitha," said Aaron.
"Haven't I? Oh, haven't I? I've got two aunts called Tabitha: if not more."
"They aren't of any vital importance to you, are they?" said Levison.
"Not the very least in the world—if it hadn't been that my elder Aunt Tabitha had christened her dachshund bitch Bella. I cut myself off from the family after that. Oh, I turned over a new leaf, with not a family name on it. Couldn't stand Bella amongst the rest."
"You must have strained most of the gnats out of your drink, Argyle," said Lilly, laughing.
"Assiduously! Assiduously! I can't stand these little vermin. Oh, I am quite indifferent about swallowing a camel or two—or even a whole string of dromedaries. How charmingly Eastern that sounds! But gnats! Not for anything in the world would I swallow one."
"You're a bit of a socialist though, aren't you?" persisted Levison, now turning to Lilly.
"No," said Lilly. "I was."
"And am no more," said Argyle sarcastically. "My dear fellow, the only hope of salvation for the world lies in the re-institution of slavery."
"What kind of slavery?" asked Levison.
"Slavery! Slavery! When I say slavery I don't mean any of your damned modern reform cant. I mean solid sound slavery on which the Greek and the Roman world rested. Far finer worlds than ours, my dear chap! Oh far finer! And can't be done without slavery. Simply can't be done.—Oh, they'll all come to realise it, when they've had a bit more of this democratic washer-women business."
Levison was laughing, with a slight sneer down his nose.
"Anyhow, there's no immediate danger—or hope, if you prefer it.—Of the re-instituting of classic slavery," he said.
"Unfortunately no. We are all such fools," said Argyle.
