"So annoying of the hens not to learn to lay golden eggs," remarked Mrs Cavendish one morning when she had examined half a dozen things smoking over the electric heaters. "What's the use of this pure gold Orpington here sitting on a silver nest when she only hatches things which can be purchased at a penny and twopence each. No, I refuse to eat truffles and cream and salmon for breakfast, nor do I require ham and champagne sauce." A big party had assembled for the ball of Regis Hunt races. Dull people and smart people, who ate their meals together with regret, and drifted apart directly afterwards. The dull people ate the ornamented dishes and sighed inwardly for roast mutton, the smart people picked at them and wanted the French cookery their greedy souls adored. But Mr Holbrook was content. He was getting on. He did kind things which he concealed rigorously, and he did generous things for his own benefit, and his peerage loomed ahead. "My dear love," said Holbrook, coming into the library. He had furnished the shelves with first editions of various authors whom no one ever read. Statues stood, coldly graceful in corners, gleaming white against the brown background. The library table carried a writing set of leather worked in gold. Grace Holbrook was dictating letters to her secretary, a slim girl with a pink nose and an irritated expression. "My dear," said Holbrook. "Do you think--?" He paused. "You can go, Miss Harris," said Mrs Holbrook. "Do you think," he said--"hum, Critennery has a little weakness ... she dances at the Magnificent, in some gauze ... that we could have her down. Lady Ermyntrude is not coming." "We couldn't," said Mrs Holbrook, hastily. "The Duchess is coming." "Well, it's quite his little weakness and he can do as he likes," said Holbrook, mournfully. "I do want Henry to be Lord Regis, my love. It's just to dance on Saturday. I would arrange with Hewson of the Magnificent. And dancers are so fashionable." "My dear Luke, the Duchess of Dullshire will be here," said his wife, firmly, "and the Trents, and Lord Frensham. We couldn't. The Duchess was at the Magnificent, I remember seeing it mentioned--she must have seen the woman without any ... that is dancing." "She is so very graceful," said Luke. "Well, my love, of course if we cannot. But artistes do go everywhere now. She lunches with Lady Ermyntrude, and I thought that her presence, combined with a present of those Angel bulb roots; but if you object ... well, it's quite a little weakness, my love. Critennery would have liked to talk to Mavis Moover." Mrs Holbrook wavered visibly. "If the Duchess had not been in front," she said; "still, she's very blind and won't wear glasses; she may not have noticed the gauze. I don't want our party to be spoilt, Luke, but--" "Think it over, my love," said Holbrook, going out. "Think it over. And there's Jimmie Gore Helmsley coming. I see his name down. I don't like him, Gracie. He's a bad 'un, my love."