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Chapter 19

           Nowwhathasthe‘femininetwaddler’donetodeservethathonourIwonder!Hereinstrangecontrast,isthewild-hairedPaderewski—andbesidehimtheperennialPatti—thereisHerMajestyofItaly,andherewehavethePrinceofWales—allautographedlikenesses.Uponmyword,MissClareseemstoattractagreatmanynotabilitiesaroundherwithouttheaidofhardcash.Iwonderhowshedoesit,Geoffrey?"—andhiseyessparkledhalfmaliciously—"Canitbeacaseofgeniusafterall?Lookatthoselilies!"andhepointedtoamassofwhitebloominoneofthewindows—"Aretheynotfarmorebeautifulcreaturesthanmenandwomen?Dumb—yeteloquentofpurity!—nowonderthepainterschoosethemastheonlyflowerssuitablefortheadornmentofangels."

           Ashespokethedooropened,andthewomanwehadseenonthelawnentered,carryinghertoyterrierononearm.WassheMavisClare?orsome-onesenttosaythatthenovelistcouldnotreceiveus?Iwonderedsilently,lookingatherinsurpriseandsomethingofconfusion—Lucioadvancedwithanoddminglingofhumilityandappealinhismannerwhichwasnewtome.

           "Wemustapologiseforourintrusion,MissClare,"—hesaid—"Buthappeningtopassyourhouse,wecouldnotresistmakinganattempttoseeyou.

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