“There you are right,” hurriedly said Lionel; “for Parliament is broken up from the lack of dramatic power in its members, and militarism will inevitably die out with the disappearance of military distinctions.” “And dramatic art is buried since the study of local colour and environment has been abandoned,” sharply added Vane. “Yes,” sadly echoed Lady Carey, “imagination has been insulted by some terrible creature called Nature.” “Dear Lady Carey,” suavely murmured the little _dilettante_, “we can thank God that we have still a few _salons_—though, alas! a very few—where we can bask in the sunshine of gossip.” Then turning to Lionel, “But do not let me deter you from your plan; and pray telephone to me whenever you want my house for your new Society. I consider it a duty to keep _en evidence_; if we cannot prevent your reforms, we can at least patronise them, for when Society ceases to lead, it will disappear.” “You are speaking words of the greatest wisdom, Mr Vane,” said Danford, “words which make me think deeply. You could indeed do a great deal for the sake of Society, by urging upon members of the Royal Family that it is in their power to prevent the annihilation of their house.” “In what way can I do this?” Vane turned towards the little artist; in an instant he seemed to have forgotten his grievance against the tribe of buffoons. “Well, Mr Vane, the illness of Mrs Webster’s guide made me ponder these grave questions, and I discussed the point with the Committee of Social Guides. We all know what a gift Royal Princes possess for remembering faces; therefore we have come to the conclusion that such a talent should not be wasted. Someone must discreetly approach our Royal Highnesses, and beg of them to allow their names to be added to the list of social guides. You will no doubt agree with me that this is the only way in which our Royal Family can be made useful, for since the storm, nothing has been heard of them, and no one seems to know what they are up to.” “The suggestion is not a bad one, Mr Danford,” slowly answered Vane. “We all know how eager our Princes are to meet every wish of their subjects.” “Yes, this is indeed true,” added Lady Carey, “and Society might then recover some of its prestige.” “I do not know whether these illustrious guides will have any sidelights to throw on life’s problems, or any philosophical _aperçu_ on human beings; but those who will employ them will be sure, at any rate, of an infallible guide to the finding of a person’s identity, and of an accurate knowledge of the Peerage which would put a Debrett to shame. Although I myself believe that since the disappearance of garments, the public has become eager to know that which lies concealed within the inner heart of men and women.” “This idea of Royal Guides is sure to take like wild-fire amongst the American millionaires,” broke in Lionel.