“You cannot be all bad, Miss Winstock,” said he to her, after instructing the chauffeur, “because nobody is.  You are undisciplined.  You do wild and rash things—­you have already accomplished several this morning.  But you have righteous instincts, though not often enough.  Of course, with one word to the insurance company I could save you.  The difficulty is that I could not save you without saving Mr. Carrel Quire also.  And it would be very wrong of me to save Mr. Carrel Quire, for to save him would be to jeopardise the future of the British Empire, because unless he is scotched, that man’s frantic egotism and ruthless ambition will achieve political disaster for four hundred million human beings.  I should like to save you.  But can I weigh you in the balance against an Empire?  Can I, I say?”

“No,” answered Miss Winstock weakly but sincerely.

“That’s just where you’re wrong,” said Mr. Prohack.  “I can.  And you are shamefully ignorant of history.  Never yet when empire, any empire, has been weighed in the balance against a young and attractive woman has the young woman failed to win!  That is a dreadful fact, but men are thus constituted.  Had you been a hag, I should not have hesitated to do my duty to my country.  But as you are what you are, and sitting so agreeably in my car, I will save you and let my country go.”

“Oh!  Mr. Prohack, you are very kind—­but every one told me you were.”

“No!  I am a knave.  Also there is a condition.”

“I will agree to anything.”

“You must leave Mr. Carrel Quire’s service.  That man is dangerous not only to empires.  The entire environment is the very worst decently possible for a girl like you.  Get away from it.  If you don’t undertake to give him notice at once, and withdraw entirely from his set, then I will ruin both you and him.”

“But I shall starve,” cried Miss Winstock.  “I shall never find another place without influence, and I have no more influence.”

“Have the Winstocks no money?”

“Not a penny.”

“And have the Paulles no money?”

“None for me.”

“You are the ideal programme-girl in a theatre,” said Mr. Prohack.  “You will never starve.  Excuse me for a few minutes.  I have another very important appointment,” he added, as the car stopped in Piccadilly.

After a quarter of an hour spent in learning that suits were naught, neckties were naught, shirts, collars, socks and even braces were naught, but that hats alone made a man of fashion and idleness, Mr. Prohack returned to Miss Winstock and announced: 

“I will engage you as my private secretary.  I need one very badly indeed.  In fact I cannot understand how, with all my engagements, I have been able to manage without one so long.  Your chief duties will be to keep on good terms with my wife and daughter, and not to fall in love with my son.  If you were not too deeply preoccupied with my chauffeur, you may have noticed a young man who came out of the tailors’ just before I did.  That was my son.”