possible
measure. Her scheme of life was not a wholly selfish one; no one could
understand what she wanted as well as she did herself, therefore she felt
that she was the best person to pursue her own ends and cater for her own
wants. To have others thinking and acting for one merely meant that one
had to be perpetually grateful for a lot of well-meant and usually
unsatisfactory services. It was like the case of a rich man giving a
community a free library, when probably the community only wanted free
fishing or reduced tram-fares. Cicely studied her own whims and wishes,
experimented in the best method of carrying them into effect, compared
the accumulated results of her experiments, and gradually arrived at a
very clear idea of what she wanted in life, and how best to achieve it.
She was not by disposition a self-centred soul, therefore she did not
make the mistake of supposing that one can live successfully and
gracefully in a crowded world without taking due notice of the other
human elements around one. She was instinctively far more thoughtful for
others than many a person who is genuinely but unseeingly addicted to
unselfishness.

Also she kept in her armoury the weapon which can be so mightily
effective if used sparingly by a really sincere individual--the knowledge
of when to be a humbug. Ambition entered to a certain extent into her
life, and governed it perhaps rather more than she knew. She desired to
escape from the doom of being a nonentity, but the escape would have to
be effected in her own way and in her own time; to be governed by
ambition was only a shade or two better than being governed by
convention.

The drawing-room in which she and Ronnie were sitting was of such
proportions that one hardly knew whether it was intended to be one room
or several, and it had the merit of being moderately cool at two o'clock
on a particularly hot July afternoon. In the coolest of its many alcoves
servants had noiselessly set out an improvised luncheon table: a tempting
array of caviare, crab and mushroom salads, cold asparagus, slender hock
bottles and high-stemmed wine goblets peeped out from amid a setting of
Charlotte Klemm roses.

Cicely rose from her seat and went over to the piano.

"Come," she said, touching the young man lightly with a finger-tip on the
top of his very sleek, copper-hued head, "we're going to have
picnic-lunch to-day up here; it's so much cooler than any of the
downstairs rooms