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Copyright © 2009, 1993, 1988, 1986 New Age International (P) Ltd., Publishers
Published by New Age International (P) Ltd., Publishers

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ISBN (13) : 978-81-224-2506-2

PUBLISHING FOR ONE WORLD


NEW AGE INTERNATIONAL (P) LIMITED, PUBLISHERS
4835/24, Ansari Road, Daryaganj, New Delhi - 110002
Visit us at www.newagepublishers.com
Preface to the Fourth Edition
This edition includes two new chapters, namely, Chapter 4 : Ordered Sets and Lattices, Chapter 10 :
Combinatorics, as well as several new sections on geometric linear transformation, sets, Boolean
algebra and linear equations. I hope the new material will help to further illustrate the relevance of
the mathematics we try to learn.
We tried to emphasize that concepts and terminology should be introduced before they are used.
Most of the material in this book is pre-requisite to so many Computer Science courses. The recent
upsurge in a branch of mathematics known as Discrete Mathematics is mainly due to its applications
in Computer Science and Technology. It is also useful in Operation Research and Electrical Engineering
and Economics.
Discrete Mathematics is a compulsory paper in most computer programmes (M.C.A., M.Sc.,
B.Tech., B.Sc., B.B.A, B.C.A) of all universities of India. This book fulfils the requirements to meet
the needs of B.C.A, B.B.A, D.G.D.C.A., B.Sc. and M.C.A. students.
While revising this book special care has been taken to make the definitions, principles and
theorem clear by numerous illustrations. So it is hoped that a grasp of the theoretical material in this
book will permit a student to understand most of the mathematical preliminaries which are briefly
discussed at the beginning of many articles and books in the areas of computer science.
The exercises are of both a theoretical and numerical nature and are meant to further the
understanding of the application of the concepts to various areas of computer science. We hope that
this book will be useful to computer scientists, engineers, non-mathematics students who desire an
intermediate coverage of topics in discrete mathematics.
We shall feel obliged for receiving suggestions or criticism and pointing out any mistake that
has crept in from our readers which will help to improve the book.
—AUTHORS
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Contents
1. Mathematical Logic 1–16
1.1 Logical Statement or Proposition 1
1.2 Type of Propositions 2
1.3 The Propositional Calculus 2
1.4 The Negation of a Proposition 2
Problem 1.1 3
1.5 Disjunction 3
1.6 Conjunction 4
Problem 1.2 5
1.7 Tautologies and Contradictions 6
1.8 Logical Equivalence 7
Problem 1.3 7
1.9 The Algebra of Propositions 8
Problem 1.4 9
1.10 Conditional Propositions 10
1.11 Converse, Inverse and Contrapositive Propositions 11
1.12 The Negation of a Conditional Proposition 12
1.13 Biconditional Propositions 13
Problem 1.5 14
1.14 Arguments 14
Problem 1.6 16

2. Set Theory 17–42


2.1 Sets 17
2.2 Set Designation 17
2.3 Null Sets and Unit Sets 19
2.4 Special Sets of Numbers 19
2.5 Universal Set 20
Problem 2.1 20
2.6 Subsets: Proper Subsets and Equal Sets 21
Problem 2.2 23
2.7 Set Operations 24
(viii) CONTENTS

2.8 Union Operation 24


2.9 Properties of Union Operation 24
2.10 Intersection 26
2.11 Properties of Intersection Operation 27
2.12 Distributive Properties 28
2.13 Complementation 29
2.14 Relative Complement (or Difference of Sets) 29
2.15 Properties of Complement 30
2.16 Properties of Difference 31
2.17 Symmetric Difference 32
Problem 2.3 34
2.18 Power Set 35
Problem 2.4 36
2.19 Cartesian Products 36
Problem 2.5 37
2.20 Generalized Set Theory 38
Problem 2.6 42

3. Relation and Functions 43–74


3.1 Relation 43
Problem 3.1 45
3.2 Equivalence Relation 45
3.3 Partition 51
3.4 Partial Order Relation 52
Problem 3.2 53
3.5 Functions (Mappings) 55
Problem 3.3 61
3.6 Inverse Mapping 62
3.7 Composition of Mappings 63
Problem 3.4 66
3.8 Binary Operations 68
Problem 3.5 70
3.9 Countable and Uncountable Sets 72
Problem 3.6 74

4. Ordered Sets and Lattices 75–111


4.1 Poset 75
4.2 Product Set and Order 77
4.3 Hasse Diagrams of Partially Ordered Sets 78
4.4 Minimal and Maximal, and First and Last Point 80
Problem 4.1 83
CONTENTS (ix)

4.5 Lattices 83
4.6 Lattices as Partially Ordered Sets 84
4.7 Principle of Duality 86
Problem 4.2 91
4.8 Lattices as Algebraic Systems 92
4.9 Lattice and Order 93
4.10 Sublattices 94
4.11 Direct Product of Two Lattices 95
4.12 Isomorphic Lattices 97
Problem 4.3 100
4.13 Complete Lattice 101
4.14 Complemented Lattices 102
4.15 Distributive Lattice 104
4.16 Modular Lattices 108
Problem 4.4 111

5. Boolean Algebra and Switching Circuits 112–139


5.1 Introduction 112
Problem 5.1 121
5.2 Boolean Functions 122
5.3 Normal Form 123
5.4 Fundamental Forms of Boolean/Functions 127
Problem 5.2 132
5.5 Application to Switching Networks 132
Problem 5.3 139

6. Matrices 140–183
6.1 Revision 140
6.2 Diagonal, Scalar, Unit and Triangular Matrix 141
6.3 Equal Matrices 142
6.4 The Transpose of Matrix: Symmetric and Skew Symmetric Matrix 143
6.5 Algebra of Matrices 144
6.6 Properties of Addition of Matrices 145
6.7 Scalar Multiples of Matrices 146
6.8 Multiplication of Matrices 146
Problem 6.1 149
6.9 Inverse of a Matrix 151
Problem 5.2 152
6.10 Geometric Transformation 153
6.11 Geometric Properties of Plane Linear Transformation 154
(x) CONTENTS

6.12 Rotation 156


6.13 Reflection 157
6.14 Expansions and Compressions 159
6.15 Shears 160
6.16 Translation 162
6.17 Successive Transformations 163
6.18 Inverse Transformation 166
Problem 6.3 177
6.19 Complex Numbers in the Form of a Matrix 179

7. Rank and Equivalence 184–213


7.1 The Concept of a Rank 184
Problem 7.1 187
7.2 Elementary Transformations 187
7.3 Equivalent Matrices 188
7.4 Elementary Matrices 188
Problem 7.2 191
7.5 Normal Form 191
Problem 7.3 195
7.6 Elementary Transformation by Matrix Multiplication 196
Problem 7.4 204
Problem 7.5 207
7.7 Computation of the Inverse of Matrix by Elementary Transformation 207
Problem 7.6 211
Problem 7.7 212

8. Linear Equations 214–232


8.1 System of Linear Equations and Consistency 214
8.2 Solution of n Linear Equations in n Unknowns 217
8.3 Solution of m Linear Equations in n Unknowns with m < n and m > n 222
Problem 8.1 225
8.4 Homogeneous Linear Equations 226
Problem 8.2 229
8.5 Cramer’s Rule 229
Problem 8.3 229

9. Characteristic Roots and Vectors of a Matrix 233–260


9.1 Definition and Examples 233
9.2 Properties of the Characteristic Polynomial 234
9.3 Application of the Cayley-Hamilton Theorem in Finding out the
Inverse of a Non-Singular Matrix 241
CONTENTS (xi)

Problem 9.1 246


9.4 Characteristic Roots and Vectors of a Square Matrix 247
9.5 Similar Matrices 259
Problem 9.2 259
Problem 9.3 260

10. Combinatorics 261–284


10.1 Introduction 261
10.2 Sum Rule Principle 261
10.3 Product Rule Principle 262
10.4 Factorial Notation 262
10.5 Permutations 263
Problem 10.1 266
10.6 Permutation of Things not all Different 267
Problem 10.2 270
10.7 Circular Permutations 271
10.8 To Find the Number of Circular Permutation of n Different Things
Taken all at a Time 271
Problem 10.3 272
10.9 Combinations 272
10.10 To Find the Number of Combinations of n Dissimilar Things Taken
r at a Time that is, Mathematically to Find the Value of nCr 273
Problem 10.4 277
10.11 Division into Groups (Partitions) 278
10.12 To Find the Number of Ways in which (m + n + p) Different Things
be Divided into Three Groups of m, n and p Things Respectively 278
10.13 To Find the Total Number of Ways in which it is Possible to Make
a Selection by Taking Some or All of n Things at a Time 279
10.14 To Find the Total Number of Ways in which a Selection can be Made
Out of p + q + r Things, of which p are Alike of One Kind, q Alike of
Second Kind and r Alike of Third Kind 280
10.15 To Find the Value of r for which nCr is Greatest 280
10.16 The Pigeonhole Principle 282
10.17 The Inclusion-Exclusion Principle 283
Problem 10.5 284
Answers to Problems 285–297
Index 299–302
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 Mathematical Logic
1.1 LOGICAL STATEMENT OR PROPOSITION
When we use words alone to express our thoughts, we may find that ambiguity creeps in because
words have many associations in everyday life. But, symbols are abstract and neutral. Thus, when
ordinary methods of reasoning fail, we can use mathematical logic also known as symbolic logic for
a clear expression of our thoughts. Here we shall deal with ‘Statements’ or ‘Propositions’.
Let us consider the following sentences:
(1) This shirt is white.
(2) Please do your work.
(3) May God bless you with success!
(4) The sum of internal angles of a triangle in a plane is two right angles.
(5) ∆’s ABC and PQR are similar.
(6) Where are you going ?
The sentences (1), (4), and (5) are declarative; whereas the sentence, (2) embodies order or
request, (3) embodies wish or prayer, and (6) embodies enquiry. (1) declares the white colour of the
shirt, as the shirt may or may not be white, (4) declares the property of the angles of a triangle,
(5) declares the property of triangles, as the ∆’s ABC and PQR may or may not be similar.
From this discussion it is clear that with every declarative sentence, we can associate a truth
value T, when it is true and a truth value F, when it is false.
Definition 1.1.1. A preposition is any meaningful, unambiguous declarative sentence which is either
true or false, but not both at the same time. So each proposition can be assigned either the truth value
T or the truth value F. (T and F are, of course convenient abbreviation for true or false).
Example 1.1.1. (1) ‘5 < 7’. This is a proposition. Since this is a true proposition, it is assigned
a truth value T.
(2) ‘2 + 3 = 6’. This is a proposition. Since this is a false proposition, it is assigned a truth
value F.
(3) The sum of internal angles of a plane triangle is two right angles. This is a proposition and
its truth value would be denoted by T since it is true proposition.
(4) Today is Tuesday. This is a propositions, but whether it is true or false depends on the
Today which is referred to in the proposition. If Today is Tuesday, the proposition is true. If not, it
is false. But it cannot be both true and false at the same time.
Example 1.1.2. The following are not propositions:
(a) Oh, what a beautiful morning.
(b) Give me the book.
1
2 DISCRETE MATHEMATICS

(c) When I consider how my light is spent.


(d ) Ram is handsome and ugly.
(e) Triangle ABC is equilateral and its angles are not equal.
Note: 1. The sentences (d) and (e) assert contradictory properties and hence are meaningless. This type
of sentences are not propositions.
2. Every proposition consists of three parts: (1) a subject, (2) a predicate, and (3) copula. Subject
designates the idea about which the declaration is made. Predicate designates the idea which
is affirmed or denied of the subject. Copula, i.e., word or words acting as a connecting link
between subject and predicate. For example in the proposition ‘triangle ABC is equilateral’,
‘triangle ABC’ is subject, ‘equilateral’ is object and ‘is’ is the copula.

1.2 TYPE OF PROPOSITIONS


There are two types of propositions: (a) Simple proposition, and (b) Compound proposition.
Definition 1.2.1. A proposition consisting of just one subject and one predicate is called a simple
proposition.
Example 1.2.1. The following are simple propositions:
(1) Ram is blind.
(2) Line L and L′ are parallel.
(3) The flower is not red.
Definition 1.2.2. A proposition consisting of two or more simple propositions in the form of a single
sentence is called a compound proposition.
Example 1.2.2. The following are compound propositions:
1. Quadrilateral ABCD is a square and each side of this quadrilateral is 4 cm long.
2. Some men are stupid and pigs can fly.

1.3 THE PROPOSITIONAL CALCULUS

1.3.1 Propositional Connectives–Truth Tables


In practice we often combine simple propositions to form compound propositions by using
logical connectives such as ‘not’, ‘or’, ‘and’, “If ...... then ......”. We shall study the determination of
truth values of compound propositions from the truth tables of their components. We shall denote the
simple propositions by small case letters such as p, q, r, s, etc.

1.4 THE NEGATION OF A PROPOSITION


Definition 1.4.1. Let p be any proposition. Then we write the negation of p as ∼p and define it to
be the proposition ‘it is false that p’.
Example 1.4.1. Let p be the proposition ‘the door is locked’. Then ∼ p, the negation of p, is
the proposition ‘it is false that the door is locked’, or, in better English, ‘the door is not locked’.
Example 1.4.2. Let q be the proposition “all men are honest”. Then ∼ q is the proposition ‘it
is false that all men are honest’. This could be better phrased as ‘not all men are honest’, or ‘all men
are not honest’, but a completely wrong attempt would be ‘all men are dishonest’ which is not the
negation of q as defined above.
It is worth emphasising that the propositions p and ∼p must have opposite truth values. i.e., if
p is a true proposition then ∼p is a false proposition and vice versa. The connection between p and
∼p can be tabulated by the truth table as follows:
MATHEMATICAL LOGIC 3

p ∼p

T F
F T

‘Negation’ is known as unary operation.

PROBLEM 1.1
1. Which of the following are propositions ?
(a) A cow has four legs.
(b) Do not stand on the flowers.
(c) There is no greatest prime number.
(d ) 6 > 341.
(e) As white as a sheet.
(f ) It will rain somewhere in Delhi on July 23rd, 1984.
(g) Is that a reasonable argument ?
(h) If 2 + 2 = 5 then ice-cream is yellow.
2. Write the negation of the following proposition:
(a) All students are industrious.
(b) One side of Mercury always faces the sun.
(c) I like eating plums and I like drinking lemonade.
(d) A power of 2 never ends in a 7.
(e) Either the sun will be shining or I shall carry my umbrella.

1.5 DISJUNCTION
Any two propositions can be combined by the connective ‘or’ to form a new proposition which is
called disjunction of the original propositions.
Definition 1.5.1. Let p and q be two propositions. We define the disjunction of p and q to be the
proposition.
either p or q or both
and we write p - q. Quite often the words either and ‘or both’ ore omitted and we say that p - q
is the proposition ‘p or q’. Here it is customary to interpret the use of the word ‘or’ in the inclusive
sense. Thus p - q is true if p is true or q is true or p and q both are true or we can phrase it that
the proposition p - q is false if and only if the propositions p, q are both false. The proposition p
- q is completely specified by its truth table as follows:

p q p-q

T T T
T F T
F T T
F F F
4 DISCRETE MATHEMATICS

Example 1.5.1. Let p and q be the propositions given by


p : 21 is divisible by 3.
q : 21 is divisible by 7.
p - q : 21 is divisible by 3 or divisible by 7 or divisible by both 3 and 7.
In this example, the third assertion is true. Here ‘or’ is used in the inclusive sense.
Example 1.5.2
p : I shall buy a car.
q : I shall buy a radio.
p - q : I shall buy a car or a radio.
It is clear that p - q will be false if both p and q are false.
In some cases, we have to use the connective ‘or’ in the ‘exclusive’ sense, i.e., we can not
have both the alternatives. For Example—
p : Straight lines L and L′ are parallel.
q : Straight lines L and L′ intersect.
p - q : Straight lines L and L′ are either parallel or intersecting.
Here, ‘or’ is used in ‘exclusive sense’. If p is true, then q is false and the proposition p - q
is true. If p is false, then q is true and p - q is true.
Therefore, if p and q are both true, then p - q is false. But p and q cannot be both true.
For the exclusive ‘or’ the symbol is -. The truth table for p - q is same as that for ‘p - q’ except
that the first row will read “TTF”, the dissuction is false in this case. the truth table of p - q is given
by
p q p-q

T T F
T F T
F T T
F F F

1.6 CONJUNCTION
We can obtain a new proposition from two given propositions p, q by using connective ‘and’.
Definition 1.6.1. Given two propositions p, q we define the conjunction of p and q to be the
proposition
p and q
and we write it p . q.
For example—
p : This child is a boy.
q : This child is intelligent.
p . q : This child is a boy and intelligent.
p . q : Is true, if the child is a boy and intelligent both.
MATHEMATICAL LOGIC 5

Even if one of the component is false, p . q is false. Thus the proposition p . q is true if and
only if the propositions p and q are both true. The truth table of p . q is as follows:

p q p.q

T T T
T F F
F T F
F F F

Example 1.6.1
p : Mathematicians are lazy.
q : Tennis racquets are expensive.
p . q : Mathematicians are lazy and Tennis racquets are expensive.

PROBLEM 1.2
Let the propositions p, q, r and s be given by
p : The sun is a star.
q : Jupiter is a planet.
r : Mumbai is a Capital of India.
s : Protein is necessary for life.
1. State truth values of p - q, p - r, p - s, q - r, q - s, r - s,
2. State truth values of p . q, p . r, p . s, q . r, q . s, r . s
Note: A compound statement is also a proposition. It is not necessary that a proposition has only two
proposition and only one kind of connective. A proposition may have many component propositions
and many connectives joining them.
If there are two propositions, then the truth table will have four rows. If there are three propositions,
there would be eight rows, with four propositions there would be 16 rows and so on. The combination
of truth values of two and three propositions are given by the following Tree diagram:
p q combination of p and q.
T T T
T
F T F
T F T
F
F F F
p qr combination of p, q and
T T T T
T
F T T F
T
T T F T
F
F T F F
6 DISCRETE MATHEMATICS

T F T T
T
F F T F
F
T F F T
F
F F F F

1.7 TAUTOLOGIES AND CONTRADICTIONS


Let us now consider the truth tables for
‘p - ∼p’ and ∼p - (q - p)

p ∼p p - ∼p

T F T
F T T

and
p q ∼p q-p ∼p - (q - p)

T T F T T
T F F T T
F T T T T
F F T F T

The final columns of the truth-table for both sentences containing nothing but T’s, and they are
thus true under all conditions—no circumstance whatever will render them false. These type of
propositions are called a tautology and T stands for tautology. So p - ∼p = T and ∼p - (q - p) = T.
Definition 1.7.1. A proposition, such as above, which is always true, no matter what truth values are
assigned to its component proposition is called a tautology.
Let us consider the truth table for the propositions p . ∼p and p . q . ∼ (p - q).

p ∼p p . ∼p

T F F
F T F

p q p .q p -q ∼ (p - q) p . q . ~ (p - q)

T T T T F F
T F F T F F
F T F T F F
F F F F T F
MATHEMATICAL LOGIC 7

It follows from the final columns of the truth tables of the propositions that the proposition have
all truth values F’s. These type of propositions are called contradictions. F stands for contradiction.
Hence p . ∼p = F and p . q . ∼(p - q) = F.
Definition 1.7.2. A proposition, such as above, which is always false, no matter what truth values
are assigned to its component propositions, is called a contradiction.

1.8 LOGICAL EQUIVALENCE


Two propositions are said to be logical equivalent (or equal) if they have same identical truth values.
We will denote logical equivalence by the symbol ‘=’.
We shall illustrate by a simple example.
Example 1.8.1. Consider the proposition ∼(p . q) and ∼p - ∼q. Their truth tables are:

p q p.q ∼ (p . q) p q ∼ p ∼ q ∼ p-∼ q

T T T F T T F F F
T F F T T F F T T
F T F T F T T F T
F F F T F F T T T

Here the propositions ∼ (p . q) and ∼ p - ∼ q have identical truth values for all possible ways
of assigning truth values to the component propositions p, q. Hence
∼ (p . q) = ∼ p - ∼ q.

PROBLEM 1.3
1. Let p be the proposition ‘high speed driving is dangerous’ and q the proposition ‘Ram was a wise man’.
Write down the meaning of the following propositions:
(a) p . q
(b) ∼ p - q
(c) ∼ (p - q)
(d) (p . q) - (∼ q . ∼ q)
(e) (p - q) . ∼ (p . q)
2. Use the truth table technique to establish the following results, given that p, q, r are arbitrary propositions.
(a) p - (q - r) = (p - q) - r
(b) p - (p . q) = p
(c) p . (q - r) = (p . q) - (p . r)
(d) ∼ (p - q) = ∼ p . ∼ q.
3. Use the truth table technique to establish that the following propositions are tautologies:
(a) (p . q) - (p - ∼ q) - (∼ p . q) - (∼ p . ∼ q)
(b) {(p - ∼ q) . (∼ p . ∼ q} - q
(c) ∼ {p . (∼ p - q)} - q.
8 DISCRETE MATHEMATICS

1.9 THE ALGEBRA OF PROPOSITIONS


Given arbitrary propositions p, q, r the following propositional identities are algebraic laws and they
can be established by truth table technique.
1. Commutative Laws 2. Assoicative Laws
(a) p - q = q - p (a) p - (q - r) = (p - q) - r
(b) p . q = q . p (b) (p . q) . r = p . (q . r)
3. Distributive Laws 4. Idempotent Laws
(a) p - (q . r) = (p - q) . (p - r) (a) p - p = p
(b) p . (q - r) = (p . q) - (p . r) (b) p . p = p
5. Laws of Absorption 6. Laws of Complimentation
(a) p - (p . q) = p (a) p - ∼ p = T
(b) p . (p - q) = p (b) p . ∼ p = F
7. Laws of Double Complementation 8. De’ Morgan’s Laws
∼ (∼ p) = p (a) ∼ (p - q) = ∼ p . ∼ q
(b) ∼ (p . q) = ∼ p - ∼ q
9. Operations with F and T 10. (a) F - p = p
(a) T - p = T (b) T . p = p
(b) F . p = F
11. (a) ∼F = T
(b) ∼T = F
We shall establish 2(a) and 3(a) for the sake of clarity and rest are left as exercises.
Proof: 2(a) p - (q - r) = (p - q) - r.
We have
p q r p- q (p - q) - r q-r p - (q - r)
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7)
T T T T T T T
T T F T T T T
T F T T T T T
T F F T T F T
F T T T T T T
F T F T T T T
F F T F T T T
F F F F F F F

The truth values in columns (5) and (7) are identical. Hence this proves the logical equivalence,
as desired.
MATHEMATICAL LOGIC 9

Proof: 3(a) p - (q . r) = (p - q) . (p . r)
We have truth tables for (p - q) . (p - r) and p - (q . r) as follows:

p q r q.r p - (q . r) p-q p- r (p - q) . (p - r)
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)
T T T T T T T T
T T F F T T T T
T F T F T T T T
T F F F T T T T
F T T T T T T T
F T F F F T F F
F F T F F F F F
F F F F F F F F

By comparison of the columns (5) and (8) in the table it follows that
p - (q . r) = (p - q) . (p - r).
Example 1.9.1. Show that
{p . (∼p - q)} - {q . ∼(p . q)} = q
Proof: L.H.S. = {p . (∼p - q)} - {q . ∼(p . q)}
= {(p . ∼p) - (p . q)} - {q . ( ∼p - ∼q)}
= F - (p . q) - (q . ∼p) - (q . ∼q)
= F - (p . q) - (q . ∼p) - F
= (p . q) - (q . ∼p)
= q . (p - ∼p)
= q . T = q = R.H.S.
Example 1.9.2. Show that
{(p - ∼q) . (∼p - ∼q)} - q = T
Proof: L.H.S. = {(p - ∼q) . (∼p - ∼q)} - q
= {(p - ∼q) . ∼p - (p - ∼q) . ∼q} - q
= {(p . ∼p) - (∼q . ∼p) - (p . ∼q) - (∼q . ∼q)} - q
= {F - (∼q . ∼p) - (p . ∼q) - ∼q} - q
= (∼q . ∼p) - (p . ∼q} - ∼q - q
= (∼q . ∼p) - (p . ∼q} - T
= T.
Hence,{(p - ∼q) . (∼p - ∼q)} - q is a tautology.

PROBLEM 1.4
1. Simplify
(a) (∼p . ∼q) - (∼p . ∼q . ∼r)
(b) ∼p . {∼q . (∼p - q)}
10 DISCRETE MATHEMATICS

(c) {(∼p - ∼q - r) . (p . r)} - {p . (∼q - r)}


(d) (∼p . ∼q) - (∼p . q . r) - ∼(p - ∼q)
2. Show that the following propositions are tautologies:
(a) (p . q) - (p . ∼q) - (∼p . q) . (∼p . ∼q)
(b) {(p - ∼q) . (∼p - ∼p)} - q
(c) {p . (∼p - q)} - (∼p . q) - ∼q

1.10 CONDITIONAL PROPOSITIONS


A statement of the form “If p then q”, where p and q are propositions, is called a “conditional
proposition” (or proposition of implication), and it is denoted by p ⇒ q.
The proposition p ⇒ q is completely specified by its truth table which we defined to be

p q p⇒q
T T T
T F F
F T T
F F T

Thus the conditional proposition p ⇒ q is false if and only if p is true and q is false. In all other
cases it is true.
Note: The proposition p ⇒ q does not mean that p causes q. The conditional proposition does not need
any logical connection between p and q except that whenever p is true, q is also true, and whenever p is false,
q is also false.
In this truth table, the first two rows are acceptable to most students but the same cannot be
said for the last two rows. The decision to assign the truth value T to the proposition p ⇒ q when
p is false irrespective of the truth value of the proposition p is reasonale.
The confusion is caused by the fact that, in everyday life, when a statement of the form. “If p
then q” is used the proposition p is usually true and the proposition p, q are normally related. It can
be seen by the following example.
Example 1.10.1
p! Two parallel lines are cut by a transversal.
q! The corresponding angles are equal.
p ⇒ q! If two parallel lines are cut by a transversal then the corresponding angles are equal.
Here p is true and p, q are related.
Mathematical logic however must cater for situation where either or both of these restrictions
do not apply.
Example 1.10.2
p : 3=8
q : 3+5=8
p ⇒ q : If “3 = 8” then “3 + 5 = 8”.
MATHEMATICAL LOGIC 11

Here, p ⇒ q is a true proposition because the inferred statement q is true in spite of the fact
that p is false. In fact there is no logical connection between p and q, i.e., q cannot be deduced from p.
Example 1.10.3
p : Dogs are bipeds.
q : Human beings are quadrupeds.
p ⇒ q : If “dogs are bipeds”, then “human beings are quadrupeds”.
Here p and q are false and it is evident that p and q logically unconnected but the conditional
proposition p ⇒ q is taken true in the mathematical logic.
It is possible to express a conditional as a disjunction, as
p ⇒ q = ∼p - q
which is shown below:

p q p⇒ q ∼p ∼p - q

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

T T T F T
T F F F F
F T T T T
F F T T T

From the columns (3) and (5) is clear that


p ⇒ q = ∼p - q.
The proposition p ⇒ q is used in some alternative fashion. We give below some of the
possibilities:
If p then q
p is sufficient for q
q is necessary for p
p only if q
q if p
p implies q
q follows from p.

1.11. CONVERSE, INVERSE AND CONTRAPOSITIVE PROPOSITIONS


Definition 1.11.1. It p ⇒ q is the direct proposition, then
(a) q ⇒ p is called its converse,
(b) The proposition ∼p ⇒ ∼q is called its inverse, and
(c) The proposition ∼q ⇒ ∼p is called its contrapositive.
12 DISCRETE MATHEMATICS

We have

p q p⇒ q ∼p ∼q ∼q ⇒ ∼p

T T T F F T
T F F F T F
F T T T F T
F F T T T T

∴ p ⇒ q = ∼q ⇒ ∼p
i.e., Direct statement = Contrapositive.
Again, we have

p q q⇒ p ∼p ∼q ∼p ⇒ ∼ q

T T T F F T
T F T F T T
F T F T F F
F F T T T T

∴ q ⇒ p = ∼p ⇒ ∼q
i.e., Converse = Inverse.
Here we shall see that if p ⇒ q is true, then q ⇒ p and ∼p ⇒ ∼q may not be true.
Example 1.11.1
p : x2 = 4
q:|x |<4
Here, p ⇒ q : If x = 4, i.e., x = ± 2, then | x | < 4 is true.
2

The converse q ⇒ p will be “If | x | < 4, then x2 = 4”. This is false. Let x = 3 or x = –3,
then | x | < 4 but these values do not satisfy x2 = 4. Similarly, any value such that – 4 < x < 4 which
is not equal to 2 or – 2 will not satisfy x2 = 4. The inverse ∼p ⇒ ∼q will be “If x2 ≠ 4,
then | x | ≥ 4”. This is also false. Let x = 3 or x = – 3, then x2 ≠ 4 but these values do not satisfy
| x | ≥ 4.

1.12 THE NEGATION OF A CONDITIONAL PROPOSITION


This is not a conditional proposition. Given that p ⇒ q we have
p q p⇒ q ∼ (p ⇒ q) ∼p ∼p -q ∼ (∼ p - q) ∼q p . ∼q
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9)
T T T F F T F F F
T F F T F F T T T
F T T F T T F F F
F F T F T T F T F
MATHEMATICAL LOGIC 13

Since, the columns (4), (7) and (9) are identical, therefore
∼ (p ⇒ q) = ∼ (∼p - q) = p . ∼ q.

1.13 BICONDITIONAL PROPOSITIONS


Given two propositions p, q we write biconditional or equivalence of p, q as p ⇔ q and define it
to be the proposition.
p if and only if q.
The biconditional p ⇔ q is true when p, q are both true or both false and is false otherwise,
as given in the following table:

p q p⇔ q
T T T
T F F
F T F
F F T

The following table shows that


p ⇔ q = p ⇒ q . q ⇒ p.

p q p⇔ q p⇒ q q⇒ p p⇒ q.q⇒ p

T T T T T T
T F F F T F
F T F T F F
F F T T T T

Since biconditional is a conjunction of the conditional and its converse, the biconditional is
worded in some alternative fashions:
p is equivalent to q
q is equivalent to p
If p then q, and if p then q
If p then q, and conversely
If q then p, and conversely
p is necessary and sufficient for q
q is necessary and sufficient for p
q if and only if p
Example 1.13.1. Show that p ⇔ q = (p . q) - (∼p . ∼q).
Since, p ⇔ q = (p ⇒ q) . (q ⇒ p)
= (∼p - q) . (∼q - p)
= (∼p . (∼q - p) - q . (∼q - p)
= (∼p . ∼q) - (∼p . p) - (q . ∼q) - (q . p)
= (∼p . ∼q) - F - F - (q . p)
= (∼p . ∼q) - (q . p)
= (q . p) - (∼p . ∼q)
14 DISCRETE MATHEMATICS

PROBLEM 1.5
1. Show that
(a) p ⇒ q = ∼q ⇒ ∼p
(b) (p ⇒ q) ⇒ r ≠ p ⇒ (q ⇒ r)
(c) (p ⇔ q) = (q ⇔ p)
(d) (p ⇔ q) ⇔ r = p ⇔ (q ⇔ r)
(e) [(p ⇒ q) . (q ⇒ r)] ⇒ (q ⇒ ≡ T (tautology).
2. What is the negation of:
(a) p ⇒ q.
(b) p ⇔ q?
3. Write each of the following statements in symbolic form:
(a) If the journey to and accommodation at Bombay are troublesome, I shall not go to Bombay.
(b) The Indian hockey team will win or lose at the new Olympic meet.
(c) If tomorrow is holiday then there will be no examination, but if an examination is held, it will
be in mathematics.
(d) The country will rise if and only if we work hard, sincerely and intelligently.
(e) If one is interested in acquiring good knowledge then it is a pleasure to study in a library if and
only if the library is well equipped with books and journals and the library atmosphere is good.
4. Determine the truth value of each of the following propositions.
(a) 3 + 5 = 8 iff 1 + 3 = 4
(b) 3 + 5 = 9 iff 1 + 3 = 7
(c) 3 + 5 = 8 iff 1 + 3 = 7
(d) 3 + 5 = 9 iff 1 + 3 = 4
5. Let p: Triangle ABC is equilateral,
q: Triangle ABC is equiangular.
Form the converse inverse and contrapositive of p ⇒ q.
6. Let p: ∆1 and ∆2 are similar.
q: ∆1 and ∆2 have corresponding angles equal.
Form the converse; inverse and contrapositive of p ⇒ q.

1.14 ARGUMENTS
An argument (denoted by the symbol d which is called a turnstile) is a sequence of propositions
that purport to imply another proposition. The sequence of propositions serving as evidence will be
called the premises, and the proposition inferred will be called the conclusion. An arguments is valid
if and only if, whenever the conjunction of the premises is true, the conclusion is also true. If we let
p1, p2, p3 be the premises and p4 the conclusion, then argument p1, p2, p3 d p4 will be valid if and,
only if whenever p1 . p2 . p3 is true, p4 is also. We can reduce this to the conditional ⇒ as follows:
Definition. 1.14.1. If p1, p2, ...., pn are premises and p is a conclusion, then the argument p1,
p2, ... pn d p is valid if and only if p1 . p2 . ... . pn ⇒ p is true for all combinations of truth values
of p1 ..., pn and p. In other words, to decide whether an argument is valid, use the conjunction of
evidences as the antecedent of conditional of which the conclusion of the argument is the consequent
and see whether or not a tautology results.
MATHEMATICAL LOGIC 15

If p1 . p2 . p3 . ...., . pn ⇒ p is not a tautology then the argument p1, ..., pn d p is invalid.


Example 1.14.1. Is the following argument valid? “If the labour market is prefect, then the
wages of all persons in a particular employment will be equal. But it is always the case that wages
for such persons are not equal. Therefore, the labour market is not perfect”.
Solution. Here let
p1 : “The labour market is perfect”.
p2 : Wages of all person in a particular employment will be equal.
∼p2 : Wages for such persons are not equal.
∼p1 : The labour market is not perfect.
The premises are p1 ⇒ p2, ∼p2 and
the conclusion is ∼p1.
The argument
p1 ⇒ p2, ∼p2 d ∼p1
valid if and only if
(p1 ⇒ p2) . ∼p2 ⇒ ∼p1
is a tautology. We construct the truth table as below:

p1 p2 ∼p1 ∼p2 p1 ⇒ p2 p1 ⇒ p2 . ∼p2 p1 ⇒ p2 . ∼p2


⇒ ∼ p1

T T F F T F T
T F F T F F T
F T T F T F T
F F T T T T T

If follows from the last column that


p1 ⇒ p2 . ∼p2 ⇒ ∼p1
is tautology.
Hence the argument is valid.
Example 1.14.2. Test the validity of the following: If Ashok wins then Ram will be happy. If
Kamal wins, Raju will be happy. Either Ashok will win or Kamal will win. However if Ashok wins,
Raju will not be happy and if Kamal wins Ram will not be happy. So Ram will be happy if and only
if, Raju is not happy”.
Solution. We symbolizes the statement as follows:
p : Ashok wins,
q : Ram is happy,
r : Kamal wins,
s : Raju is happy.
The premises are
p1 : p ⇒ q, p2 : r ⇒ s, p3 : p - q, p4 : p ⇒ ∼s, p5: r ⇒ ∼q.
The conclusion is
p : q ⇔ ∼s.
16 DISCRETE MATHEMATICS

p q r s p⇒ q r⇒ s p-r ~s or p⇒ r⇒ q⇒ p⇒ q.r⇒ (12) ⇒


~q ~s ~q ~s s . (p . r) . p (11)
⇒ Å s . r ? ~q

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13
T T T T T T T F F F F F T
T T F T T T T F F T F F T
T F T F F F T T T T F F T
T F F F F T T T T T F F T
F T T T T T T F T F F F T
F T F T T T F F T T F F T
F F T F T F T F T T F F T
F F F F T F F T T T F F T

Since p ⇒ q . r ⇒ s . p - r . p ⇒ ∼ s . r ⇒ ∼ q ⇒ q ⇔ ∼ s is tautology, the argument


is valid.
Then the argument is
p ⇒ q, r ⇒ s, p - q, p ⇒ ∼ s, r ⇒ ∼ q d q ⇔ ∼ s.
If the conclusion is false, we must have q false and ∼s is true i.e., q false and s false, or q true
and –s false, i.e., q true and s true. So q and s both same truth values. Therefore, the truth table has
eight rows as above:

PROBLEM 1.6
1. Show that the following is invalid:
If I buy stocks, I will lose money. Therefore, if I lose money, I buy stocks.
Hint. Let
p : I buy stocks
q : I will lose money
the premises are q ⇒ q, and
the conclusion is q ⇒ p.
∴ the argument is p ⇒ q d – q ⇒ p.
We have

p q p⇒ q q⇒ p (p ⇒ q) ⇒ (q ⇒ p)

T T T T T
T F F T T
F T T F F
F F T T T

∴ (p ⇒ q) ⇒ (q ⇒ p) is not a tautology. Hence the argument is invalid.


2. Test the validity of:
For my husband’s a birthday, I bring him gifts. Either it is my husband’s birthday or I work late in
office. I did not bring my husband gifts today. Therefore, today I worked late.
Hint. The argument is valid.
❑❑❑
Set Theory
2.1 SETS
We shall not attempt a formal definition of a set nor shall we try to lay the ground work for an
axiomatic theory of sets. Instead we shall take the operational and institutive approach that by a set
we mean a well defined collection of objects of any type whatsoever, each object of a set is an
element of the set or a member of the set.
Note that we have not really defined the term set and element (since we did not define collection
of object) rather we have taken them as institutive axioms on which all other notions will be based.
Instead of set we sometimes use one of the following class, family, aggregate and totality.
Example 2.1.1. (i) The set of this book, the letter A, and Romesh.
(ii) The set of the numbers, 2, 4, 6, 8 and 10.
(iii) The set of green leaves of a given tree.
(iv) The set of cars in Delhi on 26th January, 2008.
(v) The set of the twelve months of the year.
(vi) The set of all world rivers.
(vii) The set of the numbers 5, 13, and 19, Delhi city, a specific piece of chalk, a particular
shirt, and the planet venus.
We observe that the members of a set need not have any common property other than the
property of being considered as members of the same collection. Examples (i) and (vii) are given to
emphasize this fact.

2.2 SET DESIGNATION


A set can be designated in various ways. Since it is very important that a set be well defined, any
type of set designation must indicate whether a given object is a member of the set or is not a member
of the set. This implies that only two possibilities can exist: the object (1) is a member, or (2) is not
a member of the given set. It is then clear that an object cannot be simultaneously in and out of the
given set. For this purpose we use the symbol ∈, which is the Greek letter epsilon. ∈, will mean
“belongs to” or “is a member of” and ∉ will mean “does not belong to” or “is not a member of”.
The following examples will make this notion clear.
x ∈ A is read “x belongs to A”, or
“x is an element of A”, or
“x, an element of A”.
17
18 DISCRETE MATHEMATICS

x ∉ A is read “x does not belong to A”, or


“x is not an element of A”, or
“x, not an element of A”.
Usually small letters such as a, b, x or y will be used to represent the elements of a set, and
capital letters such as A and B, will be used to represent the set. It is also useful to denote a set putting
braces around its elements such as {a, b, c}. {a, b, c} denotes the set consisting of the three elements
a, b, and c.
We shall determine sets in three ways, two of which have already been used in the preceding
examples (i), (ii) and (vii), or they will be described by some specified statements as in the remaining
examples. In addition to these two ways we shall denote the set by putting braces around a description
of the set called the rule method (Set-builder notation).
Some examples are given to illustrate these three ways of indicating sets.
(a) A set may be indicated by a statement method.
N is the set of all natural numbers.
D is the set of all whole numbers between 1 and 10.
(b) A set may be indicated by the listing method.
A = {1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, ...}
D = {2, 3, 4, 5, 6, ... 9}
REMARK: (1) When we write a set by listing the element we write some elements and follow
them with three dots (...). Three dots at the end of a list of elements indicate that a set has elements
without end. Thus the set N = {1, 2, 3, 4 ...} represent the set of all natural numbers. In general, three
dots (...) indicate the omission of terms of the kind of given terms. Thus in the set D = {2, 3, 4, ...,
9}, three dots indicate that numbers 5, 6, 7, 8 between 4 and 9 are omitted.
(2) While writing a set by listing method we do not repeat any element. For instance the sets
{2, 2, 3, 5} and {2, 3, 5} are one and the same sets.
(3) The order of elements in a set is immeterial. For instance the sets {x, y, z} and {y, x, z}
are one and the same.
(c) A set may be indicated by rule method (Set builder form).
At many places a listing is impossible for an infinite set. For example, the listing of elements
of the set of all triangles in a plane is not possible at all. But the elements of this set satisfy the
common property that every element is triangle in a plane. So in this case we designate the set by
the so-called rule method or set builder notation. Thus the set A of all triangles in a plane can be
written as
A = {x x is a triangle in a plane}, where
the vertical bar ‘ ’ stands for ‘such that’. There are some sets which can be designated by all three
methods.
Thus N = {x x is a natural number}
D = {x x is a whole number between 1 and 10},
REMARK: There are some sets which can be written by listing method but they cannot be
written by rule method. For example, the set A = {5, Lucknow, Uttar Pradesh, Earth, Delhi} cannot
be written by rule method.
SET THEORY 19

The first example by the rule method is read “N is the set of all x such that x is a natural
number”. Similarly the second is read “D is the set of all x such that x is a whole number between
1 and 10”.
If we represent the statement by P(x) which is satisfied by each element of the set, the set can
be indicated as
D = {x x satisfies P(x)}
and it is read “D is the set of all x such that x satisfies P(x)”.

2.3 NULL SETS AND UNIT SETS


A set may contain a large number of elements or small number of elements. If there are no elements
having certain specified properties we call the set so designated a null set, an empty set, zero set,
a void set, or a vacuous set, denoted by φ.
Definition 2.3.1. A null set is a set which has no elements.
That is, φ = {x x ≠ x}
Examples of null sets:
(1) The set of all human beings born with wings.
(2) The set of all persons who reached the moon before 1855.
(3) The set of all distances which are greater than a metre and also less than a decimetre.
Definition 2.3.2. A unit set is a set which has only one element. It is also called a singleton
set.
Examples of unit sets:
(1) The set of the Presidents of India in 2008.
(2) The set of the planets on which we live.
(3) {5}.

2.4 SPECIAL SETS OF NUMBERS


Throughout this chapter the following sets of numbers will frequently be used. For the sake of clarity
we state specifically what is indeed in each set.
Definition 2.4.1. The positive integers, the counting numbers or the natural numbers are the
positive whole numbers: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, .... We shall frequently denote the set of positive integers by N.
Definition 2.4.2. The non-negative integers, are the numbers 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5,... We shall denote the
set of non-negative integers by J0.
Definition 2.4.3. The integers are the numbers 0, 1, –1, 2, –2, 3, –3, 4, .... We shall frequently denote
the set of all integers by Z.
Definition 2.4.4. The even integers are the numbers of the form 2n, where n is an integer; i.e.,
0, 2, – 2, 4, – 4, 6, – 6,...
Definition 2.4.5. The odd integers are the numbers of the form (2n + 1) or (2n – 1), when n is an
integer, i.e., 1, – 1, 3, – 3, 5, – 5,...
Definition 2.4.6. The rational numbers are the fractions of the form p/q, where p and q are integers,
q ≠ 0, and p and q do not have common factors.
20 DISCRETE MATHEMATICS

2.5 UNIVERSAL SET


Definition 2.5.1. A particular set which contains all objects which are to be considered during some
specific discussions is called a universal set for that discussion.
The universal set is frequently denoted by U, and is sometimes referred to as the universe, or
the universe of discourse. In a Venn diagram the universal set U is usually represented by the points
of a rectangle plus its interior points.
Examples of universal sets.
(1) The set of integers could be used as a universal set from which the objects for the set
S = {5, –2, 7, 3} are chosen.
(2) The set of all persons in India could serve as the universal set for the set of persons who
speak Hindi or for the set of all students of all Indian universities, or for the set of all teachers in
India.

PROBLEM 2.1
1. Indicate the elements of the following set by listing method:
(a) Set of all integers between 0 and 50, each of which has 3 as its last digit.
(b) Set of all positive integers less than 49 and divisible by 7.
(c) Set of all prime numbers between 1 and 30.
(d ) Set of all square roots of 25 that are even integers.
(e) Set of all positive integers which are common factor of 30 and 45.
(f ) Set of all square roots of the number 9.
(g) Set of even integers between –5 and 7.
2. Which of the following are examples of empty sets ?
(a) Set of all integers ending in 2 which are perfect squares.
(b) Set of all even integers endings in 7.
(c) Set of all integers whose square is 2.
(d) Set of all integral roots of the equation x3 – 5 = 0.
(e) Set of all living people who were born before 1950.
3. Below are given some sets. Express by using the ‘rule method’:
(a) Set of all foreigner who visited India in 2007.
(b) Set of all points in a plane.
(c) Set of all straight lines in a plane.
(d ) Set of all multiples of 5.
(e) Set of all integral divisors of 48.
(f ) Set of all common factors of 48 and 56.
(g) Set of all even integers.
(h) Set of all composite numbers.
4. Let n be an integer. Find the numbers in each of the following sets which correspond to the values
of n from – 4 to 4, inclusive:
(a) {x | x = 5n – 6}
(b) {x | x = 2n – 1}
(c) {x | x = 2n/3 – 1}
(d ) {x | x = 6 – 2n}.
SET THEORY 21

5. Express each of the following sets in different ways:


(a) {1, 2, 3, 4, 5 .....}
(b) {x | x is a number such that 2x = 12}
(c) {y | y is the name of a state in India starting with the letter U}.
6. Verify:
(a) {x | x ∈ N, x < 1} = φ
(b) {x | x ∈ I, 6x2 + 5x – 4 = 0} = φ
(c) {x | x ∈ I, 3x + 4 = 8} = φ
(d ) {x | x is a prime even integer ≠ 2} = φ.
7. Express each of the following sets in other ways:
(a) {x | x = 2n where n is an integer}
(b) The set of all integral multiples of three
(c) {–5, – 4, –3, –2, –1, 0, 1, 2}
(d ) { x | x is a positive integral divisor of 60}
8. Which of the following statements are true?
(a) a = {a}
(b) 3 ∈ {3}
(c) 4 ∈ {1, 2, 3, {4}}
(d ) φ ∈ {φ}
(e) φ ∈ {{φ}}
(f ) 7 ∉ {3, 4, {2}, {5}}.

2.6 SUBSETS: PROPER SUBSETS AND EQUAL SETS


When we consider two or more than two subsets of the same universal set we may find that some
objects are common in them and sometimes we may find that all objects in one set are objects in the
second set. For this we have specific terminology which indicates how much over-lapping there is
in the sets.
Definition 2.6.1. (Inclusion). A set A is a subset of the set B if every element of A is an element
of the set B. In this case B if a super set of A.
“A is a subset of B’’ is also expressed by saying that “A is included in B” and it is symbolically
denoted by A ⊆ B which is read “A is a subset of B” or “A is included in B”.
Similarly ‘‘B is a superset of A” is also expressed by saying that ‘‘B includes A’’ and it is
symbolically denoted by B ⊇ A, which is read ‘‘B includes A’’ or ‘‘B is a superset of A’’.
If A is not a subset of B we write A ⊆| B.
Example 2.6.1. If A = {2, 3, 4, 5},
B = {1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6}
then we find that every element of A is also an element of B. Therefore by definition A is a subset
of B (A ⊆ B).
Definition 2.6.2. (Proper inclusion). The set A is a proper subset of the set B if every element of
A is an element of the set B but there exists at least one element in B which is not an element of
the set A.
22 DISCRETE MATHEMATICS

Proper inclusion is denoted by the symbol A ⊂ B which is read ‘‘A is a proper subset of B’’
or ‘‘A is properly contained in B’’, and also by the symbol B ⊃ A which is read ‘‘B includes A
properly’’.
If A is not a proper subset of B we symbolically write A ⊂| B or B ⊃| A.
Example 2.6.2. If A = {1, 2, 3, 4},
B = {1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7}
then we find that every element of A is an element of B but there are 5, 6 and 7 of B which do not
belong to A. In this case A is a proper subset of B(A ⊂ B).
Definition 2.6.3. Two set are identical if they have exactly the same elements in them.
If two sets A and B are identical we shall frequently call them as the same set, as equal sets
or as identical sets and we shall write A = B. If A and B are not equal we shall write A ≠ B.
THEOREM 2.6.1. If A ⊆ B and B ⊆ A, then A = B.
Proof. Since A ⊆ B, then by the definition of subset every element of A is an element of B,
that is, whenever x ∈ A, then x ∈ B. And every element of B is an element of A because B ⊆ A,
that is, whenever x ∈ B, then x ∈ A. This shows that the element in A and B are identical or A and
B have exactly the same elements.
Hence A = B.
Therefore in order to prove that A = B we must show that every element of A is an element
of B and every element of B is an element of A; we shall say that A = B if and only if A ⊆ B and
B ⊆ A.
Example 2.6.3. Let A = {x | 0 < x ≤ 15 and x is an odd integer}
and B = {y | 0 < y ≤ 16 and y is an odd integer}
then we find that
A = {1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 11, 13, 15}
and B = {1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 11, 13, 15}
Since the elements in A and B are exactly the same elements, by definition, A = B.
Now we shall study the statement of the definition of a subset. We observe that the statement
‘‘every element of A is an element of B’ means the same as “there are no elements in A which are
not in B”. When null set is involving in a discussion, then it may be more convincing to apply the
second statement.
Application of the definition also shows that a null set φ, that is, a set containing none of the
elements of the universe, is a subset of S, for there are no elements in φ, and therefore there are no
elements in φ, which are not in S. Hence φ ⊂ S.
By the same type of reasoning this null set φ is a subset of itself, and also a subset of every
other set taken from this universal set.
Example 2.6.4. Prove that A ⊆ A.
Proof. If x ∈ A, then x ∈ A, by the repetition of the statement therefore A ⊆ A by the definition
of a subset.
Example 2.6.5. If A ⊆ B, and B ⊆ C, then prove that A ⊆ C.
Proof. Let x ∈ A.
x ∈ A ⇒ x ∈ B since A ⊆ B
⇒ x ∈ C since B ⊆ C.
Hence A ⊆ C.
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dream. . . . Such as they are, I give them back to you. You gave
me the dream, and I broke it. But I’ve kept the pieces clean, and—
here they are.”
“I see no pieces, my sweet. You’ve given me back my dream.”
“In pieces, Richard. I broke it.”
“And now you’ve mended it, darling. You’ve given me back . . .
our dream.”
The old wonderful light flung into those peerless eyes. The old
exquisite smile came playing into her face.
“Oh, Richard,” she whispered, as though I had made her a
present she never had dared expect.
Then she closed her eyes, but the smile never left her face. And
presently, with my cheek against hers, she fell asleep.
And that is all, except that I am going to kill Berwick Perowne.

V
March 11th, 1929
‘The Office’ gave me two months’ leave—‘for the purpose of
attending to private affairs.’ That was on February 25th. Upon the
following day I disappeared: and forty-eight hours later I was in
touch with Perowne. He had no idea, of course. But I was in touch
. . . waiting. . . .
I found him at Barcelona, engaged on some Government job.
What the job was I don’t know, but it left him plenty of time—to
take two people about in his great big car. They were French, these
two, and pretty rich. The girl was young and handsome, with a
dangerously short upper lip and masses of fine red hair. When
Perowne took them out, she sat in front with him, her husband and
the chauffeur sitting behind. . . . The husband stuck it until five
days ago. Then they left for Valencia, they said, he and his wife . . .
going by road.
That night I took the lady’s name in vain.
I wired from Pampeluna—I had a big car, too—suggesting
Perowne should come. He came. I fancy his vanity was tickled. I
may be wrong. But I think he liked the idea of the husband
chuckling to think that he’d thrown him off the track, while the wife
was giving him the tip that they’d taken another road.
A maid at Pampeluna did the rest. At least, she gave him a
message, when all the rest of the staff denied the very existence of
the lady with the short upper lip and the masses of fine red hair.
The message bade Perowne take the north-east road. This leads
into the mountains and is but little travelled till April is old. He took
the road the next day, and he took it alone. His chauffeur had
supped with me the night before—holding a very short spoon. . . .
I saw him coming when he was miles away, driving like fury
along the elegant road that swept and curled and thrust like some
stately serpent up and up into bleak places, where, even beneath
the sunshine, spring seemed very distant and the monstrous
silence of the depths on either hand turned the trickle of running
water into the rush of a sluice.
When he was two miles off, I knocked out my pipe. Then I
adjusted my goggles and entered my car.
I drove slowly to meet him on one of the bends. The corner was
blind, but he cut it—I knew he would. He found me full in his path
on my proper side. He tried to get through, but I squeezed him and
crammed him into the ditch. . . .
I let him talk for a minute, while I moved on and turned my
wheels into a bank. Then I locked the switch and got out of the car.
As I came up he let out at me in French.
“How long have you been driving?”
I answered in English.
“Ten or twelve years,” I said.
“Had many accidents?”
“None. And you?”
He stared.
“Let me give you a tip,” he said. “When you’re driving a car,
don’t stick too close to your rights. It’s not much good to be able to
shout ‘You’re wrong’ when they’re pickin’ what’s left of the wind
screen out of your brain.”
“That’s a true enough saying,” said I, “and here’s another. If you
shout for trouble, don’t squeal when your prayer is heard,” and,
with that, I took out tobacco and started to fill a pipe.
For a moment he looked like thunder. Then he flung out a
laugh.
“I see you’re one of the Die-Hards. I confess I never drive with
a Bible under my arm. But there you are.” He rose and peered at
the ditch. “Another two inches of your precious slice of the way,
and I should have been all right.”
“Four,” said I, and pointed to a scar in the road. “That was your
safety crease. With a wheel on that, I knew you were bound to go.”
Perowne stared at the scar. It might have been cut with a
punch. As a matter of fact, it had. Presently he looked at me. I
pressed my tobacco home and stared at the sky.
Perowne got out of his car and looked at her tracks. Then he
picked up a stick and did some measuring. . . .
“You’re right,” said he. “Right to an eighth of an inch.”
“I know,” said I. “I measured your car last night.”
For a moment he never moved. Then he took out cigarettes,
lighted one carefully and leaned against the door with a foot on the
step.
“So I was wrong,” he said softly. “You do know how to drive.”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“Maybe,” said I, watching his right arm move. “I took your
pistol, too,” I added carelessly.
For a moment or two he almost lost control. Then he took a
deep breath.
“Well,” he sighed, “you’re thorough. I’ll give you that. And my
chauffeur? I suppose I owe his failure to the same virtue.”
“You do,” said I. “And the message.”
“Dear, dear,” said he. “Not the telegram, too?”
“The telegram, too,” said I.
“Well, I’m damned,” said he, crossing his legs. “You do work
hard, don’t you?” With half-closed eyes, he let the smoke make its
way out of his mouth. “Glorious view from here. . . . That why you
brought me?”
“In a way,” said I. “It’s quite a good place to—to see the sun go
down.”
Perowne shot me a glance.
“No doubt,” he said shortly. “But—I’m afraid I can’t wait so long.
And now tell me your game, and I’ll see if I care to play. Which is it
—blackmail or murder?”
“It’s not blackmail,” said I, and took off my goggles.
“Hullo,” said Perowne. “If it isn’t old What’s-his-name!”
The thrust was shrewd. Almost I lost my temper. To pretend
that she’d meant so little that her name was out of his mind. . . .
Instead—
“Some names sting the tongue,” I said quietly.
He lifted his head and looked at the cold blue sky.
“True,” he said. “And the brush of some lips the mouth.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” said I.
“Tell me,” he said, frowning. “Did she go back to you?”
“She did,” said I: “to die.”
“I thought she would,” said Perowne.
“Forgive me,” said I. “You thought she wouldn’t dare.” He
started. “You used her love for me to bind her feet. That’s how you
held her, you rotten loose-lipped thief. . . trading on her devotion to
another man. . . . And then at the last, poor lady, she called her
bully’s bluff, stared Blackmail out of countenance, and came back.”
The fellow’s face was livid: his eyes like swords. For a moment
he stood trembling, with fists clenched. Then he seemed to think
better of his valour and, clapping his hands behind him, threw
himself back with a jerk against the spare wheel.
“And now you’re out for blood?” he burst out presently.
I knocked out my pipe.
“Some years ago,” I said. “I was in Macedonia. Up in the
mountains, I remember, there was an old churchyard, quite full of
graves.” I looked about me. “The place was not unlike this. . . . And
every grave had been opened—to release the spirits of the dead. It
was a local superstition. Now, what do you think lived and grew fat.
. . . in that churchyard?”
There was a long silence.
At length I leaned forward.
“Snakes, Perowne, snakes. Snakes that traded on devotion . . .
turned piteous piety to their own ends . . . used women’s love for
their husbands to fill their bellies . . . battened upon the dead . . .
And you ask if I’m out for blood. What do you think?”
“Think?” said he. “Why, I think you’re very confident.”
“I confess it,” said I. “I’m a poacher to-day. But you should
watch your preserves.”
He stared at the edge of the road and into the depths beyond.
Then he tilted his chin and scanned the grandeur of Navarre—all
mountains and sudden valleys and again mountains like footstools
to mountains greater than they, so that the world seemed nothing
but a black sea of breakers foam-crested, petrified.
“You’re sore, of course,” he mused. “It’s a way relicts have. . . .
But why have you left it so long?”
“I thought she was happy,” I said. “It never occurred to me that
the man was born who could treat such a lady ill. But it seems you
struck her, Perowne.”
He cried out at that, but the blood was in my head and I
shouted him down.
“More,” I raved, “more. You jeered at her grief . . . . . . mocked
at her misery . . . twisted those delicate arms . . . cursed her for
weeping because it spoiled your sleep . . . bullied my dying girl . . .
My God! My God!” I bowed my head and covered my eyes with my
hands. “Don’t think she told me,” I muttered. “She never gave you
away. But——”
As I lifted my head, the spare wheel caught me full in the face.
I went down like a log, with the wheel on the top of me. I never
remember feeling so shaken up. I wasn’t exactly unconscious but
things were distorted—unreal.
I saw Perowne seize a kit-bag and drop it into the ditch. I saw
him slip into the car and I heard her start. I saw her begin to move
. . . lurch . . . pitch to and fro. I saw the pitches grow longer—more
pronounced. I began to get quite interested, wondering at every
failure whether he’ld get her out at the next attempt. All the time
his engine kept storming like an angry fiend. . . .
Suddenly my brain cleared, and I realized that he was like to be
gone and leave me sitting in the road with a wheel in my lap.
I heaved the wheel off my legs and leapt for the luggage-grid,
as the car shot back. Its off hind wheel went over the spare with a
couple of jerks that nearly threw me off. Then he clapped her into
first, bumped over the spare wheel again and flung up the pass all
out. . . .
Perhaps for the very first time in all his life Perowne had lost his
nerve. I thought he had, and the moment I saw him I knew. And
the knowledge did me more good than the wind in my face. The
man was not sitting: he was crouched—with his shoulders up to his
ears. His one idea was to get away from that spot. The silence,
perhaps. . . .
He never saw me climb up over the hood or settle myself on the
seat behind his back. But I did. As a matter of fact, I sat there a
minute or two—to get my breath and recover—before I put him
wise.
Strangely enough, my touch seemed to bring his confidence
back.
He gave one whoop. . . . Then he threw back his head and
laughed up into my eyes.
“You do work hard,” he said. “I thought you were done.”
The road was falling now for a long half-mile.
I stretched out a hand and switched his engine off.
He cursed me for that. Then he stamped on the clutch.
“I’ll take you to find her in hell,” he cried, and headed straight
for the brink.
I clapped my hands on his and wrenched the wheel about.
For a second I thought we were over. . . . Then the car swung
back to the crown of the road.
Again he swerved to the off, and I wrenched her back.
All the time the car was gathering speed.
I had the strength, but he had the position. We swayed and
swung and swerved all over the road, fighting and raving like
madmen to get the upper hand. Twice I went for the brake, but
each time, before I could reach it, I had to catch at the wheel. I
crushed his fingers, and he screamed and spat in my face.
We were doing fifty now, and a curve was coming. The man
wasn’t born that could take it without brakes. Perowne saw it, too,
and laughed.
“Behold our spring-board,” he said.
I seized his neck and jammed his face between the spokes of
the wheel.
“Now turn it,” said I.
Then I applied the brakes. . . .
When the car came to rest, I let him lift his head.
Then I put my hands under his chin and looked into his eyes.
“You’ll never see her,” I said. “She’s up in heaven.”
He smiled.
“With the rest of the demi-monde!”
I began to bend him back.
“Where there aren’t any bullies,” I said. “She had her hell upon
earth.”
“I devilish nearly won,” said he.
“You did,” said I. “But you made one bad mistake.”
“Why, what was that?” said he.
“You lost your nerve.”
He struggled at that, and I bent him back again.
“This won’t help her,” he blurted, panting.
“The more’s the pity,” said I. “But it’ll help me and it’ll make the
world cleaner.”
Again I bent him back, till his eyes were starting and his back
curved like a bow.
“For God’s sake, end it,” he whimpered.
“Ask in her name,” said I.
“For . . . her . . . sake.”
I broke his back.
Then I turned the wheels to the edge and started the engine
up. . . .
The car came to rest finally about six hundred feet below the
road—a battered blazing wreck.
For a moment I watched her burn, and, being human and very
much in love with my dead wife, felt better than I had felt for many
a month.
That was three days ago.
To-morrow morning I shall report for duty.

VI
September 5th, 1929
I came up from Bristol to-day.
Just as the train was starting, the door of my carriage was
opened, and a woman was hoisted in.
She stuck a glass in her eye and waved to her breathless squire.
“So long, Nosey,” she said. “ ’Fraid I’m out of bananas, but
here’s an onion’s heart.”
She blew him a kiss and flung herself back in her seat.
I knew her at once: and I began to wonder if she’ld remember
me. She did. After a little reflection she opened her mouth.
“Didn’t I meet you,” she said, “at the Meurices’?”
“That’s right,” said I. “You told my fortune from my hand.”
She looked at me sharply.
“I remember,” she said. “Did—did it ever come true?”
“Half of it did. You said I should meet a man who’ld have a
terrific influence on my life—indirectly, through somebody else.
Well, you were perfectly right.”
“That all?” she said, looking at me very hard.
“Yes,” I said. “That’s all that’s been fulfilled. So far as I know,
I’ve had no influence on him. And I assume I should know. Mine
was to be direct, if you remember.”
“And physical,” said Sarah Roach.
“And physical,” said I, “whatever that may mean. If it’s coming
off, it’ll have to come off quick. He’s over seventy-four, and the
papers say he’s ill.”
Miss Roach stared at me as if I was drunk.
“Seventy-four?” she snapped. “Who—what’s his name?”
“That I can’t tell you,” said I. “But he’s in Debrett. Why
shouldn’t he be seventy-four?”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
She picked up her papers then, and we said no more.
As the train was running into Paddington—
“I don’t talk,” she said, “but I study women and men and put
two and two together rather as you do yourself. And when I’ve
done my addition I like turning up the answer to see if I’m right.”
“Well,” said I, wondering what was afoot.
“Well, I’ve done a sum,” she said, “and you’ve got the answer. If
I tell you my result, will you tell me whether it’s right?”
“It depends on the sum,” said I. “I don’t talk either, you know.”
“It’s nothing to do with your job. It’s a purely personal matter.”
“In that case I’ll say ‘Yes’ or ‘No.’ ”
“Right,” said Sarah Roach, “and remember—I don’t talk. Did you
kill Berwick Perowne?”
“I had that pleasure,” said I. “But how did you know?”
She laughed.
“Simple addition,” she said. “Besides, I’m half a prophet.”
Which is all she’ll ever be, so far as I’m concerned. For I see
from this morning’s paper that Sir George —— is dead.
ATHALIA
ATHALIA

“I feel,” said Fairfax, “that I must marry you.”


His partner threw back her head and laughed delightedly.
“I warn you,” she flashed, “I’m very rich.”
“Oh, but why ‘warn’?” said Fairfax, swinging her off her feet and
then subsiding abruptly into a step of which the progressive nature
was almost imperceptible. “Besides, I knew it before. Besides, if
you had been poor, I shouldn’t have spoken.”
“Are you seriously asking me to be your wife?”
“I am. So far as you’re concerned, the advantages of such a
course may not be obvious. To be perfectly frank, I can hardly see
them myself. Still, you might do worse. At least, I’m clean, honest
and sober.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” said Athalia Choate.
The man raised his eyebrows. Then he laid hold of the lady and
started to dance.
It was a superb performance.
The floor was crowded, but, for all the notice of others that
Fairfax seemed to take, it might have been empty. The two passed
as one through the press, whirling, side-stepping, poising,
translating every whim of the capricious measure into a
masterpiece of motion. Athalia found herself treading as she had
never trod before, yet making no mistake. The firm pressure upon
her back became a powerful government, urging her to right or
left, turning her, keeping her clear of collision, lifting her into the
very spirit of the dance. The pace of the music grew hotter; the
fury of the band, madcap. All about them people were labouring
hilariously in a feverish endeavour to keep abreast of the rhythm.
Fairfax’s feet moved like quicksilver . . . the two swam the length of
the ballroom with a clean rush . . . he was doing another step, and
she was late . . . she was off her feet, and he was thrusting again
into the very heart of the crowd . . . her head——
Then the music stopped, and she was released.
“Am I sober?” said Punch Fairfax.
Miss Choate took a deep breath.
“Indubitably,” she said.
They made their way downstairs to a dim library, and Fairfax
drew two chairs to the slow wood fire. Then he gave her a
cigarette, lighted it, and took one himself.
“Will you do me a favour?” he said.
“Try me,” said Miss Choate.
“Be perfectly honest with me for a quarter of an hour.”
The lady knitted her brows.
“What do you mean?”
“That will appear,” said Fairfax. “The best way to learn a game is
to start playing it. Now then. Are you averse to wedlock?”
Miss Choate started.
“I—I never agreed to play,” she said uneasily.
Punch pulled his moustache.
“It’s a very good game,” he said. “I have to answer, too—any
question you ask.”
Athalia subjected the toe of a ridiculously tiny slipper to a
prolonged scrutiny. At length—
“The answer,” she said, “is in the negative.”
“Good,” said Fairfax, marking the excellence of her instep. “I’m
seven years older than you. As a matter of fact, I think that’s just
about right. Do you agree?”
“I don’t disagree,” said Miss Choate slowly. “Anything between
five and ten years. . . . When do I start?”
“When you please,” said Fairfax, comfortably exhaling smoke.
“What a sweet pretty leg you’ve got! Do you like my style?”
Miss Choate swallowed.
“You are quick,” she said. “Of course, I’ve never played this
before, so——”
“Neither have I,” said Punch. “I give you my word. Er, do you?”
The lady stared into the fire.
“Yes,” she said, “I do. If I had been poor, you wouldn’t have
spoken, would you?”
“I should not.”
“Why?”
“Because I haven’t enough to keep you—us as we should be
kept.”
Athalia laughed.
“ ‘I could not love thee, dear, so much,’ ” she quoted, “ ‘loved I
not comfort more.’ ”
“My dear,” said Punch, “that was most admirably put. It exactly
represents my point of view, your point of view and the point from
which, furiously as they would deny the impeachment, every
rational male and female in this edifice views the rich vale of
matrimony.”
Miss Choate raised her sweet eyebrows.
“We are a topping lot of wash-outs, aren’t we?” she said.
Fairfax shook his head.
“Not at all. We’re just wise. We have the sagacity to avoid the
steep and narrow path which leads to heroism, because we blinkin’
well know that we should never get there.”
“But——”
“One moment. If Fortune puts us upon that path, as she may,
that’s another matter. We get to heroism then. But if we choose it
of our own free will—never. Never. Because, sooner or later, we
always regret our choice. And there ain’t no admittance to ’eroism
for gents wot regrets their choice.”
“I seem to know that line,” said Miss Choate. “Isn’t it out of His
Sin against Her Love?”
Fairfax appeared to wince.
“Tennyson, dear, Tennyson. Hiawatha’s address to the Boy
Scouts.”
There was a pregnant silence.
As soon as she could trust her voice—
“Aren’t you leaving love out of the question?” ventured Athalia.
“I don’t think so. I know love jettisons fear, but I don’t think it
sandbags the instinct of self-preservation. I don’t mean that if you
tottered into a bear-pit I wouldn’t go in to get you out. But if you
dropped your lip-stick in—well, the bears could have it.”
“Supposing it was the only lip-stick I had?”
“Nothing doing,” said Fairfax.
“Supposing I said that if you got it out I’ld marry you?”
“Love doesn’t——”
“Don’t evade,” said Miss Choate. “There’s another ten minutes
to go.”
Fairfax looked at her.
Silhouetted against the black of an old bureau, the delicate
features looked especially beautiful. The smooth brow, the straight
clean-cut nose, the sweet droop of the mouth—from temples to
pert chin my lady’s face was a picture for men to kneel to.
Her squire covered his eyes.
“Rot it,” he said shakily. “I—I believe I should have a dart.”
Athalia permitted herself to smile.
“But if I was poor you wouldn’t?”
“No. For both our sakes. . . . Yes—I’m honest. For both. We’re
earthy, you know. It’ld mean that we’ld have to come down—come
down in the world. Well, I shouldn’t like that—I’ld hate it. And so
would you. And on the top of it all I should always know two things
—first, that I’d brought you down, and then that you might have
married a richer man.”
“How would you bring me down if I was poor?”
“My dear, your face is your fortune—your face and your pretty
ways. You might be poor as blazes, but as long as you stayed
single you could dine and dance and sleep in half the ancestral
homes of England.”
“Sort of second Queen Elizabeth?” said Athalia. “I must be nice.”
“Oh, but you are,” said Punch. “Most—er—most nice.”
“D’you mind speaking the truth?”
Fairfax moistened his lips.
“You are probably the most adorable woman in London to-day. I
have never heard anything said of you which you would not have
liked to hear. Finally, you are frequently indicated as a future
Duchess: in fact, if you married me, I believe sterling would drop
two stitches—I mean, points.”
“I wish I was poor,” said Miss Choate.
“What would you do?”
Again the lady smiled.
“I should probably marry you,” she said.
“But I shouldn’t ’ve asked——”
“I should waive that preliminary,” said Miss Choate calmly.
So soon as he could speak—
“You forward girl,” said Fairfax. “You wicked——”
“And you,” continued Athalia, “not having had any say in the
matter, would go up the steep and narrow path to heroism—
touching the ground in spots. I should see to that,” she added
darkly.
Fairfax wiped his brow.
“Oh, the vixen,” he said. “Listen at her.”
“As it is,” said his companion, “though my feet are of clay
—‘earthy,’ I think, was your expression—the man who marries me
must think them of fine gold.”
Fairfax looked down his nose.
“There are plenty of coves,” he said, “who’ll tell you the tale.
Besides, when I said you were earthy, I only meant ‘human.’ Hang
it, Athalia, if I told you your little feet were golden, you’ld tell me to
go straight home and sleep it off.”
“Also,” continued Miss Choate, “he must prefer my smile to any
comfort that he has ever dreamed of.”
“But I do,” protested her swain. “Infinitely. They’re not in the
same street.”
“Rot,” said Athalia. “You love your comfort best every time. My
smile doesn’t come off with my pearls. If I was poor, my smile’ld
still be there. But you wouldn’t want it then.”
“Of course I should. And if I was rich, I’ld have it. It’s not your
money I want, but it is your money we need. I’ve been honest
about it. ‘Live and let live,’ you know.”
“Have you anything,” said Athalia, “but what you earn?”
“Not a bean,” was the cheerful reply. “I had sixty thousand, you
know. But I’ve been through the lot.”
“Good,” said my lady. “Look here. Jobs tend to cramp the style
——”
“They’re a weariness of the flesh,” sighed Punch.
“—and my husband’s style must not be cramped. If you’ll give
up your job, I’ll—I’ll marry you.”
Punch Fairfax sat up, open-mouthed.
“What an’ keep me?”
“I’ll settle two thousand a year on you. That’s twice what you
earn.”
There was an electric silence.
Then Punch rose with a laugh.
“ ‘Clean, honest and sober,’ ” he said quietly. “I see that I should
have added ‘respectable’: but, to tell you the truth, I——”
“Sit down, Punch, me lad,” said Athalia Choate. “Dismount and
sit down. You’ve given the answer I wanted. Not that I really
doubted, but—one likes to make sure.”
Fairfax regarded her thoughtfully. Then—
“Talk about edgywedged tools,” he said, resuming his seat.
“Supposing I’d said ‘D-d-done!’—all quick like, with bulging
eyes. . . .”
Athalia laughed.
“I should have found a way,” she murmured. “And now go on—
ask me. There’s still five minutes to go.”
“As you please,” said Punch. “Why does one like to make sure?”
“Because, so far as I’m concerned, there are only two starters
for the Athalia Stakes—and you’re one of them.”
“Athalia!”
“Wait. I’ll be perfectly straight with you. I’ve had one or two
proposals—most women have. But as yet I haven’t had one from
. . . the man I love.” Her companion started. “That’s often the way,
you know. Perhaps I shall never have it. Many women don’t. . . .
But oh”—she laced her slight fingers, set them against her cheek
and raised her eyes ecstatically—“oh, I hope I shall, Punch. If you
knew what it meant to me! I’ld be so awfully happy. . . .”
“Well, I—I hope you will, too,” said Fairfax dismally. “I—I do
really. . . . But what are you telling me this for?”
“Because you can help me. You see, he is such a dear, but,
though we’re quite good friends, the idea of falling in love with me
doesn’t seem to have entered his head. And, if he saw us together,
I think it might make him think.”
Fairfax laughed hysterically.
“Excuse my emotion,” he said. “The—the humour of it’s sort of
dawning on me—that’s all.”
“ ‘Humour’?” cried Athalia.
“Humour—‘h’ mute. Let me explain. Only two runners for the
Stakes, of which I’m one and the other won’t start. So I’m to show
off my paces—play about on the course and generally show the
other what fun running is, and then when it finally dawns on him
that if he follows the rails they’ll bring him to the post, I’m to——
Well, where do I come in? I suppose I get a lump of sugar and a
dazzling smile.”
“Perhaps,” said Athalia dreamily, “the other’ll never start.”
Punch set his teeth.
“Does it occur——”
“Perhaps,” continued Athalia, “when he does, you’ll leave him
standing.” The man stared. “That’s my trouble. I love him
desperately now—possibly because he doesn’t love me. But, once
he’s started, you may go right away.”
Fairfax fingered his chin.
“D’you really think that likely?”
“It’s quite on the cards. At the moment I like you and I love
him. So I obviously can’t marry you. If once he gets going, I shall
see him in quite a new light. And then—why, I mayn’t love him at
all.”
“Are you sure you’ve got it right?” said Punch. “I mean, these
’ere love-squalls are very tricky. Perhaps you don’t really care about
either of us. I’m sure you think you do, but perhaps you don’t. I
remember Dusty Bligh wobbling between Ray Darling, that was,
and Monica Pump. Neither of the girls would have been seen dead
with him, but that never entered his head. His trouble was that he
couldn’t decide which to have. It was like a billiard match. In the
afternoon Monica’ld be leading, and in the evening Ray’ld get her
eye in and fairly walk away. It might have been going on now, if a
widow with three kids hadn’t rolled up and pinched the prize.”
“Serve him right,” said Miss Choate. “But I’m not wobbling.
Don’t you believe it. If the man I love would only propose to-night,
I’ld fairly jump at him.”
“The devil you would,” said Fairfax.
“But he won’t,” said Athalia sadly. “Don’t be afraid.” A tender
note slid into the fresh tones. “I think he’s love-shy. He’ll want a lot
of leading. And then, as I’ve said, perhaps it won’t be the same.”
Punch frowned upon his finger-nails.
“You know, it’s all damned fine,” he said uneasily, “but in the
course of this running-up stunt I may get fond of you.” He
hesitated. Then—“Not soppy, you know, but—but troubled . . . go
off my feed and that sort of thing. At the present moment I’m
sorry, and there you are; but if I saw a lot of you, as you seem to
suggest I should—well, I might easily get distracted. And then if
the other gent comes off I’m carted good and proper, I am.”
Athalia shrugged her white shoulders.
“That’s your look-out. On the other hand, I may get fond of you.
It’s a gamble, of course: but so are a lot of things. And I’ve told
you the absolute truth. I needn’t have. Not one woman in a million
would have. They’ld ’ve played you up all right without putting you
wise. And you’ld ’ve blessed or cursed them according as it fell out.
But I agreed to be honest—for a quarter of an hour. . . .
Incidentally, I see the time’s up.”
“Make it twenty minutes,” said Fairfax hastily.
“Not for worlds,” said Athalia, with a bewitching smile. She rose
and, standing a-tiptoe, peered at herself in the mirror above the
hearth. “And now, which is it to be?”
Thoughtfully Punch regarded her exquisite form.
Presently the girl turned her head and looked at him over her
shoulder.
In silence their eyes met.
At length—
“I feel I’m asking for trouble,” said the man, “but I may as well
have a dart.” He rose, stepped to her side and took her small hands
in his. “I don’t believe I’ve an earthly, Athalia dear, but, whatever
happens, I’ll have been with you a bit, won’t I? And—when I’m
hungry, I expect I’ll be glad of those crumbs.”
Miss Choate said nothing.
Fairfax kissed her cool fingers.
Six weeks had gone by, through which, so far as his
secretaryship permitted, Punch had devoted his time to Athalia
Choate. Three days out of five he saw her by hook or by crook.
One night they danced together, another they dined. Twice, time
being hard to come by, they had met before breakfast in the Row.
On three out of seven Sundays they had spent the day in his car—a
powerful grey two-seater, aged and greedy, but sound and good to
look at. The comfort of its rubbed cushions stuck in the memory,
like that of a glass of old port.
Such attention would not have been possible, but for the lady
herself. Athalia’s parents were dead, and, though she visited
America every autumn, the great mansion in Philadelphia was
rented year after year, and its girlish landlord spent nearly all her
time within hail of a beloved aunt. The latter had married one of
the King’s Household. . . . The engagement-book of an
exceptionally attractive heiress, so chaperoned, is apt to be full. But
Athalia saw to it that Punch was not crowded out. More. True to the
spirit of their contract, the girl never fobbed him off. Whenever he
sought her company, she gave it with a quick smile. If his work
made their meeting difficult, she helped him to find a way. If he
bored her, she never showed it: if another should have stood in his
shoes, she gave no sign. Only, though she had her own cars, she
never used them once when Fairfax was there. Whatever the night,
she came and went by taxi if Punch was to be her squire. And
though two or three times he came to her uncle’s house, it was
always to big parties, where he was one of a crowd. If she
entertained herself, Fairfax was never asked.
That this faintly surprised the latter, the following letter will
show. He wrote it to his twin sister, Lady Defoe.

July 18th, 1923.


Dear Judy,
The worst has happened. I knew it would. I’m off my
feed. As gentle a brace of kidneys as ever you saw. . . . I
give you my word, I had to cover them up—they stared so
reproachfully. Well, it’s my own fault. I walked slap into
the cage—Athalia showed me round it: together we looked
at the bars. And now I can’t get out. I tell you I’ve got it
bad. I’ve got to the mathematical stage—adding up how
many hours before I see her again, subtracting so many
for sleep and glaring at the balance as if it were a bad
debt. Did you ever do that, Judy? And all the time I’m
racking my rotten brain. . . . I’m sure it’s Beringhampton.
I’m positive. He knew her before, of course: but he never
sat up and took notice until a month ago. And now—well,
Mary’s lamb isn’t in it. He’s always around somewhere—
always. I happen to know he loathes racing, but the two
days she was at Newmarket there he was. I must admit
he’s good-looking—I think he’s the best-looking man I
ever saw. But he’s a queer-tempered cove. And I’m sorry
if he’s the man—as he surely is. You see, Judy, no one
else fits. If you asked me to find a fellow who needed a
lead, who didn’t know his own mind, who’ld keep on
staring at a strawberry and thinking what a whopper it
was without it entering his head that he might as well pick
it—I should shout ‘Beringhampton.’ Everyone would. Oh,
of course it’s him. ‘The man I love.’ Aren’t women funny?
Of course I may be wrong. There’s plenty of other lads all
over Athalia; but they’re not hard up for ideas. They don’t
need any pushing: most’ld look a bit better with four-
wheel brakes. Again, it may be someone who hasn’t
stripped: but, if it is, they’re lying devilish low. I tell you
I’ve racked my brain. . . . But whoever it is has done me in
all right—mucking about like this. Damn it, they must love
her, unless they’ve got tea in their veins. You’ve only got
to see her for that. Then what’s their mouth for? And
while they’re boggling, I’m being broken up. . . . And
there you are. If somebody said, ‘All right: they shall
speak to-night,’ I’ld knock his face through his head. I love
my tenterhooks. You know—the ‘sweet sorrow’ stunt. I tell
you, Judy, I’m on the edge of poetry. I want the business
finished and I don’t want it finished. I don’t know what I
want. Yes, I do. I want Athalia. I want her as I never
wanted anything before. I thought I wanted her six weeks
ago. ‘Want’? I didn’t know what the word meant. I’m
absolutely mad about her, Judy. I don’t let her see it, you
know, but when she appears I have to hold on to
something or I’ld be jumping up and down. Her eyes, her
hair, her blessed mouth—why, her little mouth’ld make
most women, wouldn’t it? You do like her, don’t you? Of
course I know you do, but just say so in your next letter.
Just make up something nice and shove it in. It’ll be like a
drink to me. . . . Well, I don’t know what’s to happen. We
never fixed a time-limit, so this may go on for months.
Sometimes I feel I can’t bear it—only last night I damned
near had it all out. But then, if I do and she thinks the
other cove’s warming up, everything’ll be queered: I shall
be fired on the spot and my precious little bubble’ll
become, as they say, disintegrated. Whereupon I shall
seek the water under the earth. . . . At other times I’m
afraid—terrified, Judy old girl, that the very next time I
see her she’s going to say, ‘He’s won,’ and wring my hand
and thank me for working Beringhampton up to the
scratch. You see, she’s no idea that she’s shortening my
life. She knows I’m out to marry her, but she doesn’t
dream that I’m nearly off my head. I hide it all right, you
know. Most casual, I am. And when she isn’t looking, I
kiss her blessed gloves. . . .
She doesn’t ask me to dinner. That shows how little
she knows. Of course she’ld ask me if she thought I’ld
care to come. It just doesn’t occur to her, Judy. I admit
she asks Beringhampton—at least, she did last time. . . .
I suppose you couldn’t write and suggest that she
came to Biarritz. Wrap it up, you know. Say the bathing’s a
treat, and it’s the first time you’ve been warm since the
War, and all that sort of wash. You see, I can get leave in
August, and what more natural or pious than that I should
come and see you? Incidentally, that’ld show us whether
Beringhampton means business. If he follows her to
Biarritz, he simply must speak.
So long, Judy love,
Punch.
P.S.—Of course, it may be all over before August. I
don’t think B.’s going strong, but, except for Sundays, I
never see her by day. From ten to six he’s got the course
to himself. These cursed idle rich. . . . I tell you I’m seeing
the Labour point of view.
P.P.S.—What an histoire this letter is! I’ve just been
reading it through, and it’s shaken me up.
I’m coming unbuttoned, Judy. Poor old Punch is
coming unbuttoned at last.

Seven days later Miss Choate confided to Fairfax that she had
heard from Judy.
“Not my twin-sister?” said Punch, with a daring display of
amazement.
“The same,” said Athalia. “Why shouldn’t I hear from her?”
“No reason at all,” said Punch, “except that she never writes.
I’ve had six letters from her since she was married—that’s seven
years ago. Mole says she’s a vegetarian—thinks it cruel to use ink,
but, speakin’ as one who’s known her all her life except the first
twenty minutes, I incline, as they say, to the view that she’s labour-
shy. What does she say?”
“Suggests that I come to Biarritz. By way of inducement she
adds: The bathing’s a treat, and it’s the first time you’ve been warm
since the War, and all that sort of wash.”
Mentally, Fairfax consigned Lady Defoe to a resort where the
warmth would be still more remarkable.
“Must be losing her mind,” he said shortly. “What ‘wash’?”
“Can’t conceive,” said Miss Choate innocently. “Never mind. The
point is, shall I go?”
“Why not?” said Punch. “It’s about the only place in Europe I
know where you can bathe in comfort without a fleece-lined wet-off
bathing-suit and a sealskin towel. I shouldn’t faint with surprise if I
rolled up there myself. I want to see Judy, and my leave starts on
the sixth.”
“I’m not sailing till the end of September,” said Athalia musingly,
“so I could put in a month. I must confess I’ld rather like to get
warm. When’s your Bank Holiday?”
“Sixth of août,” said Punch. “I should give that a miss.”
“If I went on the fourth . . .” She sighed. “At least, it’ll be a
change. After all, Life’s rather like a frock. If it’s to be a success,
you must see it from every angle. Besides, to tell you the truth, I
think it’ld be a good move—my suddenly leaving the stage. Nature
abhors a vacuum.”
Fairfax’ heart stood still.
After an awkward silence—
“Is—is he showing any signs of life?” he said uncertainly.
Athalia looked away.
“I—I think so,” she whispered.

Upon being approached, Sir Charles Grist could see no reason at


all why his secretary’s leave should not commence at five on
Sunday afternoon instead of at twelve o’clock on Sunday night.
It was therefore eight-thirty o’clock of a pleasant August
evening when the old grey two-seater slid through the streets of
Newhaven and down to the idle quay.
Two other cars were waiting to go aboard. One was a green
cabriolet with red wire wheels.
Fairfax knew it at once—and stopped in his tracks.
It was an Hispano-Suiza, the property of a nobleman—that, in
fact, of the Most Honourable the Marquess of Beringhampton.
For a moment or two Punch stared at the equipage. Then he
took out his case and lighted a cigarette.
“They’re off at last,” he said. “After seven weeks at the gate, at
last they’re off. . . . If I wasn’t a blinkin’ fool, I should turn round
and drive straight back. As it is . . .” He shifted uneasily. “Damn it
all, why shouldn’t I have a run? Why shouldn’t I have it out before
he comes—get there and have it out? An’ tell her he’s coming an’
then push gracefully off? I’ve nothing to lose, and I’ld like her to
know how much I really cared.” He sat up suddenly. “By George, I
will. When she knows he’s really off, perhaps she won’t——” He
stopped short there, took off his hat and carefully wiped his face.
Then he put on his hat, adjusted it carefully, thrust his cigarette
between his lips, and folded his arms. “The art of Life,” he
announced, “is to keep one’s bullet head. If I go, it’s simply
because I’ve got nothing to lose.”
As the A.A. man came up—
“Last on the boat, first off—am I right?” said Fairfax.
“You are, sir.”
“Then put me on last, please.”
“I will, sir.”
Punch handed over his papers and sought for a drink.
As he passed into the hotel, Beringhampton came out.
“Hullo,” said Fairfax cheerfully. “Come and have another.”
The other stared.
“Are you crossing?” he said.
“I am that,” said Fairfax, “complete with automobile.
Destination, B-B-B-Biarritz—where the rainbow ends.”
“What are you going there for?”
“Pleasure,” said Punch shortly. “And you?”
For a moment Beringhampton looked him in the face. Then the
peer’s eyes fell to the mat at his feet.
“I never talk,” he said. “I never talk.”
He spat the words rather than spoke them.
“All right,” said Fairfax, laughing. “But come to the harbour bar
and have a——”
“ ’S damned bad form to laugh,” flashed Beringhampton, and
went his way.
Fairfax looked after him.
“The man’s mad,” he murmured. “Staring mad. Face like a
Greek god, an’ a kink in his brain. . . . And to think she thinks she
loves him!” He raised his eyes to heaven. “Oh, where’s the bar?”
That night in his cabin Fairfax remade his plans.
Between Dieppe and Biarritz lay five hundred and twenty miles.
He had intended to stay one night on the road and had chosen
Tours as his lodging. From Dieppe to Tours the distance was two
hundred miles. Thus, travelling at ease, he would have come to
Biarritz on Tuesday afternoon.
His meeting with Beringhampton had altered everything.
Generally, it suggested that any avoidable delay should be
avoided. Specially, it emphasized the desirability of extreme haste,
first, because Beringhampton would naturally propose to reach
Biarritz before the grey two-seater, and, secondly, because the
Hispano-Suiza was far and away the faster car.
Punch knitted his brows.
The boat would reach Dieppe at 4 a.m.: with luck his car could
have passed the Customs and be actually on the road at five
o’clock; and then—five hundred and twenty miles. . . .
Rejecting travellers’ tales in favour of the report of personal
experience, Punch decided that if he could maintain an average of
thirty-five miles an hour he would do extremely well. If he allowed
two hours for meals and rest, that would bring him to Biarritz by
ten o’clock. To shave, bathe, change and locate Athalia would take
the best part of an hour. Eleven o’clock. Punch wrinkled his nose.
Mercifully Miss Choate kept late hours . . . mercifully. . . . And this
was assuming that he ran to time.
With a sigh, Fairfax took out tobacco and lighted a pipe.
By what hour the Hispano-Suiza could reach Biarritz he
deliberately declined to calculate. The answer could do no good
and would be discouraging. Given a car which can average fifty
upon the open road, and a chauffeur to take the wheel when you
feel tired. . . . But then who was to say that Beringhampton would
go straight through? Besides . . .
Fairfax folded his map and took off his collar and shoes. Then
he lay down on the seat and wished for the day.
This came in due season, fresh and cloudless: but other things
first—the port of Dieppe, for instance, and shouts and clangings of
the telegraph.
A press of miserable passengers, cold, heavy-laden, white-
faced, squeezed and fought its way towards the steep gangway,
stumbled up the rude slope, clattered over setts and metals and
swarmed nervously into a grisly Custom House, there to protest
despairingly that it had ‘nothing to declare.’ Blue-jerseyed porters,
frantic with excitement, panted and screamed and staggered under
stupendous loads. A steam crane swung to and fro about its
business, responding with an uncanny intelligence to the medley of
confused directions constantly hurled at its cab. Trucks, seemingly
designed for uproar, bumped and rumbled and crashed from quay

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