be found in this position. The photo had
been called: 'Lady Everard at work in her Music-Room.'

What she was supposed to be working at, heaven only knew; for she never
wrote a line of anything, and even her social notes and invitation
cards were always written by her secretary.

As soon as a visitor came in, she rose from the suspiciously clean
writing-table, put down the dry pen on a spotless blotter, went and sat
in a large brocaded arm-chair in front of some palms, within view of
the piano, and began to talk. The music-room was large, splendid and
elaborately decorated. There was a frieze all round, representing
variously coloured and somewhat shapeless creatures playing what were
supposed to be musical instruments. One, in a short blue skirt, was
blowing at something; another in pink drapery (who squinted) was
strumming on a lyre; other figures were in white, with their mouths
open like young birds preparing to be fed by older birds. They
represented Harmony in all its forms. There were other attempts at the
classical in the decoration of the room; but Lady Everard herself had
reduced this idea to bathos by huge quantities of signed photographs in
silver frames, by large waste-paper baskets, lined with blue satin and
trimmed with pink rosettes, by fans which were pockets, stuffed cats
which were paperweights, oranges which were pincushions, and other
debris from those charitable and social bazaars of which she was a
constant patroness.

With her usual curious combination of weak volubility and decided
laying-down of the law, she was preparing to hold forth to young La
France (whom she expected), on the subject of Debussy, Edvina, Marcoux,
the appalling singing of all his young friends, his own good looks, and
other subjects of musical interest, when Mr Cricker was announced.

She greeted him with less eagerness, if less patronage, than her other
protege, but graciously offered him tea and permitted a cigarette.

Lady Everard went in for being at once _grande dame_ and Bohemian. She
was truly good-natured and kind, except to rivals in her own sphere,
but when jealous she was rather redoubtable.

'I'm pleased to see you, my dear Willie,' she said; 'all the more
because I hear Mrs Mitchell has taken Wednesdays now. Not _quite_ a
nice thing to do, I think; although, after all, I suppose we could
hardly really clash. True, we _do_ happen to know a few of the same
people.' (By that Lady Everard meant she had snatc