Socialist whims, was interesting enough; and his
problem was interesting--the problem of whether he could make a party
out of the heterogeneous group of which he was turning out to be
indisputably the ablest member. But what was there _certain_ or
_inevitable_ about his future after all? And it was the same with all
the rest. Whereas the leaders of the past had surely announced
themselves beyond mistake from the beginning. He was inclined to think,
however, that we were levelling up rather than levelling down. The world
grew too clever, and leadership was more difficult every day.

Meanwhile Wharton found his progress through these stately rooms
extremely pleasant. He was astonished at the multitude of people he
knew, at the numbers of faces that smiled upon him. Presently, after
half an hour of hard small talk, he found himself for a moment without
an acquaintance, leaning against an archway between two rooms, and free
to watch the throng. Self-love, "that froward presence, like a
chattering child within us," was all alert and happy. A feeling of
surprise, too, which had not yet worn away. A year before he had told
Marcella Boyce, and with conviction, that he was an outcast from his
class. He smiled now at that past _naivete_ which had allowed him to
take the flouts of his country neighbours and his mother's unpopularity
with her aristocratic relations for an index of the way in which
"society" in general would be likely to treat him and his opinions. He
now knew, on the contrary, that those opinions had been his best
advertisement. Few people, it appeared, were more in demand among the
great than those who gave it out that they would, if they could, abolish
the great.

"It's because they're not enough afraid of us--yet," he said to himself,
not without spleen. "When we really get to business--if we ever do--I
shall not be coming to Lady Cradock's parties."

"Mr. Wharton, do you ever do such a frivolous thing as go to the
theatre?" said a pretty, languishing creature at his elbow, the wife of
a London theatrical manager. "Suppose you come and see us in 'The
Minister's Wooing,' first night next Saturday. I've got _one_ seat in my
box, for somebody _very_ agreeable. Only it must be somebody who can
appreciate my frocks!"

"I should be charmed," said Wharton. "Are the frocks so adorable?"

"Adorable! Then I may write you a note? You don't have your horrid
Parliament that night, do you?" and she fluttered on.

"I t