"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 Peterson, 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, with a sigh. "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 Peterson, with a quizzical glance at Julia.
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