They belonged to the inner sanctuary of English aristocracy, and I could not at the moment see how I was to scale the fortress of their exclusiveness. I knew that they had been perfectly ready to entertain and make much of the young Gascoynes. Harry Gascoyne had told me as much, but this was a very different thing from welcoming the son of the Hebrew commercial traveller. They might not be so easy to conciliate as Miss Gascoyne. Lord and Lady Gascoyne’s entertainments were not made a feature of in the newspapers. It was a privilege to attend them, and the entrée to Lady Gascoyne’s drawing-room was a passport to any society. Lady Pebworth, I knew, visited them, and had been a guest at Hammerton, but I did not think it very probable she would be able to introduce me, and I was not quite sure that I cared about owing my introduction to her. Chapter XII Although I had from motives of policy given up the idea of making Sibella my wife, I was none the less somewhat overcome at receiving an invitation to her wedding. Grahame Hallward and I had lunch together in the City the day I received it. “What do you think, Israel? Lionel has asked me to be his best man,” he said. “Are you going to?” “Well, I told him that I thought it was rather silly for the bride’s brother to be best man, and I asked him whether there was not someone else. He got quite annoyed, and so did Sibella. He was angry, I believe, chiefly because he could not think of a friend as a substitute. As a matter of fact, I don’t think he has many friends.” “I don’t understand him,” I said. “He goes about a great deal, and knows some very decent people, and yet the men don’t like him.” “Women do, though, don’t they?” “I suppose so.” “I’m sorry for Sibella, Israel—I am really. Of course, she won’t suffer so much as other women might when she finds him out, because she has no heart.” “Do you really think that, Grahame?” “Sorry to say I do. Of course, I would not say such a thing to anybody else, but you’re almost like one of us.” I gave him an affectionate glance. I was certainly very fond of Grahame. “You should ask him if he would not like me to be his best man,” I said. We both laughed. “I should think he rather objects to my coming to the wedding at all. I’m coming, all the same.” Grahame said nothing, and I guessed that there had been some discussion on the subject. I knew that Lionel Holland was not by any means above the vulgarity of showing temper should I be asked against his wish. “Come and see us on Sunday. Lionel won’t be there, and Sibella particularly told me to ask you.” “I’ll come,” I said. I wondered why Sibella was anxious to see me. “You’ll be awfully dull at home without her,” I added. “Yes; she may not have much heart, but at the same time she’s jolly good company.” “Yes, that’s exactly the expression. Even when we were children she always kept things going.”