Lady Beach-Mandarin had of course like everybody else at that time her own independent movement in the great national effort to create an official British Theatre upon the basis of William Shakespear, and she saw in the as yet unenlisted resources of Sir Isaac strong possibilities of reinforcement of her own particular contribution to the great Work. He was manifestly shy and sulky and disposed to bolt at the earliest possible moment, and so she set herself now with a swift and concentrated combination of fascination and urgency to commit him to participations. She flattered and cajoled and bribed. She was convinced that even to be called upon by Lady Beach-Mandarin is no light privilege for these new commercial people, and so she made no secret of her intention of decorating the hall of his large but undistinguished house in Putney, with her redeeming pasteboard. She appealed to the instances of Venice and Florence to show that “such men as you, Sir Isaac,” who control commerce and industry, have always been the guardians and patrons of art. And who more worthy of patronage than William Shakespear? Also she said that men of such enormous wealth as his owed something to their national tradition. “You have to pay your footing, Sir Isaac,” she said with impressive vagueness. “Putting it in round figures,” said Sir Isaac, suddenly and with a white gleam of animosity in his face, the animosity of a trapped animal at the sight of its captors, “what does coming on your Committee mean, Lady Beach-Mandarin?” “It’s your name we want,” said the lady, “but I’m sure you’d not be ungenerous. The tribute success owes the arts.” “A hundred?” he threw out,—his ears red. “Guineas,” breathed Lady Beach-Mandarin with a lofty sweetness of consent. He stood up hastily as if to escape further exaction, and the lady rose too. “And you’ll let me call on Lady Harman,” she said, honestly doing her part in the bargain. “Can’t keep the car waiting,” was what Brumley could distinguish in his reply. “I expect you have a perfectly splendid car, Sir Isaac,” said Lady Beach-Mandarin, drawing him out. “Quite the modernest thing.” Sir Isaac replied with the reluctance of an Income Tax Return that it was a forty-five Rolls Royce, good of course but nothing amazing. “We must see it,” she said, and turned his retreat into a procession.