any one knowing
you had been there. But the Duchess of Hertfordshire hid her light under
no bushel. Exclusive she was, but not of publicity. Next to Windsor
Castle, Keeb Hall was the most advertised house in all England.

'Meanwhile, I had plenty to do. I rather thought of engaging a valet,
but decided that this wasn't necessary. On the other hand, I felt a need
for three new summer suits, and a new evening suit, and some new white
waistcoats. Also a smoking suit. And had any man ever stayed at Keeb
without a dressing-case? Hitherto I had been content with a pair of
wooden brushes, and so forth. I was afraid these would appal the footman
who unpacked my things. I ordered, for his sake, a large dressing-case,
with my initials engraved throughout it. It looked compromisingly new
when it came to me from the shop. I had to kick it industriously, and
throw it about and scratch it, so as to avert possible suspicion. The
tailor did not send my things home till the Friday evening. I had to sit
up late, wearing the new suits in rotation.

'Next day, at Victoria, I saw strolling on the platform many people,
male and female, who looked as if they were going to Keeb--tall,
cool, ornate people who hadn't packed their own things and had reached
Victoria in broughams. I was ornate, but not tall nor cool. My porter
was rather off-hand in his manner as he wheeled my things along to
the 3.30. I asked severely if there were any compartments reserved for
people going to stay with the Duke of Hertfordshire. This worked an
instant change in him. Having set me in one of those shrines, he seemed
almost loth to accept a tip. A snob, I am afraid.

'A selection of the tall, the cool, the ornate, the intimately
acquainted with one another, soon filled the compartment. There I
was, and I think they felt they ought to try to bring me into the
conversation. As they were all talking about a cotillion of the previous
night, I shouldn't have been able to shine. I gazed out of the window,
with middle-class aloofness. Presently the talk drifted on to the topic
of bicycles. But by this time it was too late for me to come in.

'I gazed at the squalid outskirts of London as they flew by. I doubted,
as I listened to my fellow-passengers, whether I should be able to shine
at Keeb. I rather wished I were going to spend the week-end at one of
those little houses with back-gardens beneath the railway-line. I was
filled with fears.

'For shame! thought I. Was