know me to be incapable of practices, however lucrative, which involve taint of crime. I do not prey upon the society which I propose to benefit. But where are the girls?’ ‘Where are they not?’ Logan asked. ‘Dawdling, as jesters, from country house to country house. In the British Museum, verifying references for literary gents, if they can get references to verify. Asking leave to describe their friends’ parties in The Leidy’s News. Trying for places as golfing governesses, or bridge governesses, or gymnastic mistresses at girls’ schools, or lady laundresses, or typewriters, or lady teachers of cookery, or pegs to hang costumes on at dress-makers’. p. 7The most beautiful girl I ever saw was doing that once; I met her when I was shopping with my aunt who left her money to the Armenians.’ p. 7 ‘You kept up her acquaintance? The girl’s, I mean,’ Merton asked. ‘We have occasionally met. In fact—’ ‘Yes, I know, as you said lately,’ Merton remarked. ‘That’s one, anyhow, and there is Mary Willoughby, who got a second in history when I was up. She would do. Better business for her than the British Museum. I know three or four.’ ‘I know five or six. But what for?’ Logan insisted. ‘To help us in supplying the widely felt want, which is my discovery,’ said Merton. ‘And that is?’ ‘Disentanglers—of both sexes. A large and varied staff, calculated to meet every requirement and cope with every circumstance.’ Merton quoted an unwritten prospectus. ‘I don’t follow. What the deuce is your felt want?’ ‘What we were talking about.’ ‘Ground bait for salmon?’ Logan reverted to his idea. ‘No. Family rows about marriages. Nasty letters. Refusals to recognise the choice of a son, a daughter, or a widowed but youthful old parent, among the upper classes. Harsh words. Refusals to allow meetings or correspondence. Broken hearts. Improvident marriages. Preaching down a daughter’s heart, or an aged parent’s heart, or a p. 8nephew’s, or a niece’s, or a ward’s, or anybody’s heart. Peace restored to the household. Intended marriage off, and nobody a penny the worse, unless—’