He managed to get away from his office an hour earlier that afternoon, and, having smartened himself up, went in the direction of Great Cumberland Place. He arrived at the house just in time to see Lord Bexley leave it. With some misgivings, Salmon noted the peer’s military bearing, his patrician face with its iron-grey moustache, his decidedly aristocratic appearance. This man had apparently everything in his favour except Celia’s promise of betrothal. David possessed that, and he hoped and believed that Celia would not break it now. By a favourable chance she was at home. David followed the footman through the spacious hall with lightening heart. His spirits sank, however, when he arrived at the great drawing-room to find Lady Marjorie and Guy Haviland there also. Celia was leaning against the arm of Lady Marjorie’s chair with her hand resting lightly on her hostess’s shoulder. They appeared to be discussing something of importance, and Haviland hailed his appearance with satisfaction. “Ha, here’s Mr. Salmon!” he exclaimed, as David came forward to shake hands. “I say, Salmon, you haven’t any objection to your intended going on the stage for a short time, have you?” “The stage?” repeated David, as he sank on to the chair which Lady Marjorie offered. “That is a new idea, isn’t it?” “Not exactly: I have just written a play for her--a capital play, though I say it myself; and now that it is all done, Mr. Karne won’t allow her to act in it, or at least he doesn’t approve, which comes to the same thing. Isn’t that hard lines?” David looked dubious. “This is the first I have heard of it,” he said, a little frown appearing on his forehead. “To tell you the truth, I should hardly care to see my intended on the stage either. What do you think about it yourself, Celia?” “I rather like the idea,” she answered readily. “I am very fond of acting, as you know, though I am not sure how I should like it as a regular occupation. However, as Herbert has put his veto on it, there is nothing more to be said. I would not do it against his wish.” “Quite right,” agreed David, with approval. A dutiful sister makes a dutiful wife. “I cannot understand why Mr. Karne objects so strongly,” said Lady Marjorie, with a thoughtful expression on her bright face. “He seems to have taken a positive antipathy to the dramatic profession. I told you so, ages ago, didn’t I, Haviland? I have always found him amenable to reason in everything but this. Of course I can understand his feelings in some measure. He does not like the idea of Celia laying herself open to receive the cheap compliments of any one who chooses to pay to see her act. He doesn’t like the associations of the theatre, either, and thinks they might have a deleterious effect. The life of an actress is different to that of a public singer. He may be right, after all.” Haviland rose from his seat, and folded his arms dramatically.