Such is the aroma and influence which "doth hedge a king" in any sphere of modern life! Sir William walked away with the beautiful girl by his side. He felt the light touch of her fingers upon his arm, and his blood raced and leapt with joy. He felt a boy again, a happy conquering boy. Yes, all was indeed well upon this night of nights! As they entered the supper-room and found a table, Lord Landsend saw them. He was with Mrs. Pat Argyle, the society actress, and his cousins the young Duke and Duchess of Perth. Landsend was a fast young man of no particular intellect. But he was kind, popular, and not without a certain personal charm. He could do things that more responsible and important people couldn't do. As he saw the hero of the occasion and the night come in with Marjorie Poole, an inspiration came to the rackety young fellow. He jumped up from his chair and began to clap loudly. There was a moment's dead silence. Everybody stopped talking, the clink and clatter of the meal was still. Then the little Duchess of Perth--she was Miss Mamie Q. Oildervan, of New York--took Landsend up. She began to clap too. As she had three hundred thousand a year, was young, cheeky and delightful, she was a leader of society at this moment. Every one followed suit. There was a full-handed thunder of applause. Lord Landsend lifted a glass of champagne high in the air. "Here's to the wizard of the day!" he shouted merrily. "Here's to the conqueror of thought!" There was another second of silence. During it, the Duke of Perth, a boy fresh from Oxford, caught the infection of the moment. He raised his glass also--"And to Miss Poole too!" he said. People who had spent years in London society said that they had never experienced anything like it. A scene of wild excitement began. Staid and ordinary people forgot convention and restraint. There was a high and jocund chorus of congratulation and applause. The painted roof of the supper-room rang with it. Society had let itself go for once, and there was a madness of enthusiasm in the air. Sir William Gouldesbrough stood there smiling. He entered into the spirit of the whole thing and bowed to the ovation, laughing with pleasure, radiant with boyish enjoyment. He felt Marjorie's hand upon his arm quiver with excitement, and he felt that she was his at last! She stood by his side, her face a deep crimson, and it was as though they were a king and queen returning home to the seat and city of their rule. It was so public an avowal, chance had been so kind, fortune so opportune, that Sir William knew that Marjorie would never retrace her steps now. It was an announcement of betrothal for all the world to see! It was just that. Lady Poole, who was supping with Sir Michael Leeds, the great millionaire who was the prop and mainstay of the English Church, pressed a lace handkerchief to her eyes.