"What?" he said, with a forced laugh, "do you really expect me to play lawn tennis on such a day? You are mad."
"I am hot, you mean," retorted the imperturbable Rolleston, blowing a wreath of smoke.
"That's a foregone conclusion," said Dr. Chinston, who came up at that moment.
"Such a charming novel," cried Julia, who had just caught the last remark.
"What is?" asked Paterson, rather puzzled.
"Howell's book, 'A Foregone Conclusion,'" said Julia, also looking puzzled. "Weren't you talking about it?"
"I'm afraid this talk is getting slightly incoherent," said Felix. "We all seem madder than usual to-day."
"Speak for yourself," said Chinston, indignantly, "I'm as sane as any man in the world."
"Exactly," retorted the other, coolly, "that's what I say, and you, being a doctor, ought to know that every man and woman in the world is more or less mad."
"Where are your facts?" asked Chinston, smiling.
"My facts are all visible ones," said Felix, gravely pointing to the company. "They're all crooked on some point or another."
There was a chorus of indignant denial at this, and then every one burst out laughing at the extraordinary way in which Mr. Rolleston was arguing.
"If you go on like that in the House," said Frettlby, amused, "you will, at all events, have an entertaining Parliament."
"Ah! they'll never have an entertaining Parliament till they admit ladies," observed Paterson, with a quizzical glance at Julia.
"It will be a Parliament of love then," retorted the doctor, dryly, "and not medieval either."
While everyone was laughing at this remark, Frettlby took the doctor's arm, and walked away with him. "I want you to come up to my study, doctor," he said, as they strolled towards the house, "and examine me."
"Why, don't you feel well?" said Chinston, as they entered the house.
"Not lately," replied Frettlby. "I'm afraid I've got heart disease."
