Mrs. Hetherington droned on about Lord this and Lady that—if she mentioned commoners at all they possessed double-barrelled names—until there was a general movement to go. I rose with the others, but Lady Pebworth with the greatest cleverness managed to avoid saying good-bye to me till everyone else had gone and we were left alone. Mrs. Hetherington, who was the last to leave, looked at me with the insolent curiosity of good breeding as she was making her farewells, evidently fully conscious of her hostess’s manœuvring. “Are you in a great hurry?” asked Lady Pebworth, as the door closed behind Mrs. Hetherington. “Oh, no.” “Then sit down and let us talk. I must have some fresh tea, and you will have something stronger.” I explained that I seldom drank anything stronger than tea. She looked at me curiously. “Dear me! You don’t look a puritan.” I laughed. The expression as applied to myself sounded quite comic. “I am afraid my virtue has its origin in vanity. I confine myself to champagne, and that only occasionally.” “You are quite right. It is dreadful the objects young men make of themselves with drink—and women, too, when they cease to attract.” “Do they ever realise when that time has come?” “Yes, most women are philosophical enough for that.” “Women with charm need never cease to attract.” “That is very true, but you are young to have found it out. It is usually a discovery of the middle-aged.” “Age is not altogether a question of years.” I found Lady Pebworth a mental tonic. She made me talk as I had never talked before, indeed, as I had never known myself capable of talking. I realised that I had made a distinct impression, and found myself calculating how far she might be useful to me. She evidently knew everyone worth knowing. She could undoubtedly launch me in the great world if she cared to do so, and I was quite confident of my ability to keep afloat providing I had a really good introduction. I could not help smiling as I reflected how envious Lionel Holland would have been could he have witnessed my _tête-à-tête_ with Lady Pebworth. Later Lord Pebworth came in. He was the personification of the elderly well-bred. It was not probable that he had ever possessed many brains, but he had the amount of conscience which causes a man highly placed to do the right thing at the right moment. He was devoid of enthusiasm, and being eminently safe had even achieved a second-rate position as a politician, which he was quite persuaded was a first-rate one. He treated his wife’s young men friends—and I discovered afterwards that they had been a numerous procession—with kindly toleration, and even went out of his way to give them a good time when it lay in his power.