Lady Dunstable's efforts on his behalf had already done him substantial service; she had introduced him to all kinds of people likely to help him, intellectually and financially; and to help him was to help Doris.

Why would she be such a little fool?
So unlike her, too!--sensible, level-headed creature that she generally was.

But he was afraid of losing his own temper, if he argued with her.

And indeed his lazy easy-goingness loathed argument of this domestic sort, loathed scenes, loathed doing anything disagreeable that could be put off.
But here was Lady Dunstable's letter: Dear Mr.Arthur,--Will your wife forgive me if I ask you to come to a tiny _men's_ dinner-party next Friday at 8.15--to meet the President of the Duma, and another Russian, an intimate friend of Tolstoy's?
All males, but myself! So I hope Mrs.Meadows will let you come.
Yours sincerely, RACHEL DUNSTABLE.
"Of course, I won't go if you don't like it, Doris," said Meadows with the smile of magnanimity.
"I thought you were angry with me--once--for even suggesting that you might!" Doris's tone was light, but not pleasing to a husband's ears.
She was busy at the moment in packing up the American proofs of the Disraeli lecture, which at last with infinite difficulty she had persuaded Meadows to correct and return.
"Well--but of course--this is exceptional!" said Meadows, pacing up and down irresolutely.
"Everything's exceptional--in that quarter," said Doris, in the same tone.

"Oh, go, of course!--it would be a thousand pities not to go." Meadows at once took her at her word.