When William Came | Page 4

that office boys had manners.
He entered Cicely's drawing-room with the air of one to whom
assurance of manner has become a sheathed weapon, a court accessory
rather than a trade implement. He was more quietly dressed than the
usual run of music- hall successes; he had looked critically at life from
too many angles not to know that though clothes cannot make a man
they can certainly damn him.
"Thank you, I have lunched already," he said in answer to a question
from Cicely. "Thank you," he said again in a cheerful affirmative, as
the question of hock in a tall ice-cold goblet was propounded to him.
"I've come to tell you the latest about the Gorla Mustelford evening,"
he continued. "Old Laurent is putting his back into it, and it's really
going to be rather a big affair. She's going to out-Russian the Russians.
Of course, she hasn't their technique nor a tenth of their training, but
she's having tons of advertisement. The name Gorla is almost an
advertisement in itself, and then there's the fact that she's the daughter
of a peer."
"She has temperament," said Cicely, with the decision of one who
makes a vague statement in a good cause.
"So Laurent says," observed Tony. "He discovers temperament in every
one that he intends to boom. He told me that I had temperament to the
finger- tips, and I was too polite to contradict him. But I haven't told
you the really important thing about the Mustelford debut. It is a
profound secret, more or less, so you must promise not to breathe a

word about it till half-past four, when it will appear in all the six
o'clock newspapers."
Tony paused for dramatic effect, while he drained his goblet, and then
made his announcement.
"Majesty is going to be present. Informally and unofficially, but still
present in the flesh. A sort of casual dropping in, carefully heralded by
unconfirmed rumour a week ahead."
"Heavens!" exclaimed Cicely, in genuine excitement, "what a bold
stroke. Lady Shalem has worked that, I bet. I suppose it will go down
all right."
"Trust Laurent to see to that," said Tony, "he knows how to fill his
house with the right sort of people, and he's not the one to risk a fiasco.
He knows what he's about. I tell you, it's going to be a big evening."
"I say!" exclaimed Ronnie suddenly, "give a supper party here for
Gorla on the night, and ask the Shalem woman and all her crowd. It
will be awful fun."
Cicely caught at the suggestion with some enthusiasm. She did not
particularly care for Lady Shalem, but she thought it would be just as
well to care for her as far as outward appearances went.
Grace, Lady Shalem, was a woman who had blossomed into sudden
importance by constituting herself a sort of foster-mother to the fait
accompli. At a moment when London was denuded of most of its
aforetime social leaders she had seen her opportunity, and made the
most of it. She had not contented herself with bowing to the inevitable,
she had stretched out her hand to it, and forced herself to smile
graciously at it, and her polite attentions had been reciprocated. Lady
Shalem, without being a beauty or a wit, or a grand lady in the
traditional sense of the word, was in a fair way to becoming a power in
the land; others, more capable and with stronger claims to social
recognition, would doubtless overshadow her and displace her in due
course, but for the moment she was a person whose good graces
counted for something, and Cicely was quite alive to the advantage of
being in those good graces.
"It would be rather fun," she said, running over in her mind the
possibilities of the suggested supper-party.
"It would be jolly useful," put in Ronnie eagerly; "you could get all
sorts of interesting people together, and it would be an excellent

advertisement for Gorla."
Ronnie approved of supper-parties on principle, but he was also
thinking of the advantage which might accrue to the drawing-room
concert which Cicely had projected (with himself as the chief
performer), if he could be brought into contact with a wider circle of
music patrons.
"I know it would be useful," said Cicely, "it would be almost historical;
there's no knowing who might not come to it--and things are dreadfully
slack in the entertaining line just now."
The ambitious note in her character was making itself felt at that
moment.
"Let's go down to the library, and work out a list of people to invite,"
said Ronnie.
A servant entered the room and made a brief announcement.
"Mr. Yeovil has arrived, madam."
"Bother," said Ronnie sulkily. "Now you'll cool off about that supper
party,