-limbed man, with straw-coloured hair
turning grey, and a broken nose, looked genial and confused, and she
went on, still closely followed by Fritz.

"This is the room for the performers, my lady," said the footman,
showing them into a large, green drawing-room, with folding doors at one
end shut off by an immense screen.

"Is the platform behind the screen?" Lady Holme asked.

"Yes, my lady. The ladies' cloak-room is on the left--that door, my
lady."

There were already several people in the room, standing about and
looking tentative. Lady Holme knew most of them. One was a French
actor who was going to give a monologue; very short, very stout, very
intelligent-looking, with a face that seemed almost too flexible to be
human. Two or three were singers from the Opera House. Another was an
aristocratic amateur, an intimate friend of Lady Holme's, who had a
beautiful contralto voice. Several of the committee were there too,
making themselves agreeable to the artists. Lady Holme began to speak
to the French actor. Fritz stood by. He scarcely understood a word of
French, and always looked rather contemptuous when it was talked in
his presence. The French actor appealed to him on some point in the
conversation. He straddled his legs, uttered a loud, "Oh, wee! Oh, wee!
wee!" and laughed.

"Lord Holme est tout a fait de mon avis!" cried the comedian.

"Evidemment," she answered, wishing Fritz would go. Miss Schley had not
come yet. She was certain to be effectively late, as she had been at
Mrs. Wolfstein's lunch-party. Lady Holme did not feel as if she cared
whether she came early or late, whether she were there or not. She was
still companioned by her curious sensation of the morning, a sensation
of odd loneliness and detachment, combined with excitement--but an
excitement which had nothing to do with the present. It seemed to her as
if she were a person leaning out of a window and looking eagerly along
a road. People were in the room behind her, voices were speaking, things
were happening there, but they had nothing to do with her. That which
had to do with her was coming down the road. She could not see yet what
it was, but she could hear the faint sound of its approach.

The comedian spoke to someone else. She went into the cloak-room and
took off her motor cloak. As she glanced into a mirror to see if all the
details of her gown were perfect, she was struck by the expression on
her face, as if she had seen it on t