ld Drowly joined Lady Peach in the unfavourable
opinion she had formed of that irrepressible youth.

Ronnie, on whom Cicely kept a solicitous eye, showed no sign of any
intention of falling in love with Gorla. He was more profitably engaged
in paying court to the Grafin von Tolb, whose hospitable mansion in
Belgrave Square invested her with a special interest in his eyes. As a
professional Prince Charming he had every inducement to encourage the
cult of Fairy Godmother.

"Yes, yes, agreed, I will come and hear you play, that is a promise,"
said the Grafin, "and you must come and dine with me one night and play
to me afterwards, that is a promise, also, yes? That is very nice of
you, to come and see a tiresome old woman. I am passionately fond of
music; if I were honest I would tell you also that I am very fond of good-
looking boys, but this is not the age of honesty, so I must leave you to
guess that. Come on Thursday in next week, you can? That is nice. I
have a reigning Prince dining with me that night. Poor man, he wants
cheering up; the art of being a reigning Prince is not a very pleasing
one nowadays. He has made it a boast all his life that he is Liberal and
his subjects Conservative; now that is all changed--no, not all; he is
still Liberal, but his subjects unfortunately are become Socialists. You
must play your best for him."

"Are there many Socialists over there, in Germany I mean?" asked Ronnie,
who was rather out of his depth where politics were concerned.

"Ueberall," said the Grafin with emphasis; "everywhere, I don't know what
it comes from; better education and worse digestions I suppose. I am
sure digestion has a good deal to do with it. In my husband's family for
example, his generation had excellent digestions, and there wasn't a case
of Socialism or suicide among them; the younger generation have no
digestions worth speaking of, and there have been two suicides and three
Socialists within the last six years. And now I must really be going. I
am not a Berliner and late hours don't suit my way of life."

Ronnie bent low over the Grafin's hand and kissed it, partly because she
was the kind of woman who naturally invoked such homage, but chiefly
because he knew that the gesture showed off his smooth burnished head to
advantage.

The observant eyes of Lady Shalem had noted the animated conversation
between the Grafin and Ronnie, and she had overheard fragments of the
invitation that