Hermon returned thanks in a witty, clever little speech, during which Lorraine seemed scarcely able to take her eyes from his face, and Lord Denton recognised more fully the extraordinary attraction such a man must wield, whether by intention or quite unconsciously. He pictured him towering a head and shoulders above nearly every one around at the law courts, with his clear-cut, fine face, looking yet more striking in the severe setting of a wig and gown; and he knew that Lorraine had made no mistake when she said he only wanted impetus and a chance to make a name for himself. If he could rap out a dainty little speech like this at a moment’s notice, wearing just that air of unpretentious, boyish humour, his path ought undoubtedly to be a path of roses, petted by women, admired and appreciated by men. “In conclusion,” he was saying, “may I suggest a toast to Miss Pritchard? I am sure you will all join me in offering her our warmest congratulations upon her sudden and unlooked-for promotion, from a somewhat nondescript young person to a brilliant and beautiful society belle.” “Speech! speech!” cried Dick and Quin to her gleefully, noisely rattling their glasses, and Hal got to her feet. “Ladies and gentlemen and Baby Alymer Hermon,” she began. “You must allow me to acknowledge your kind toast by congratulating you all, in return, upon the sudden and swift development of you powers of vision and perspicacity: equalled only, I may say, by your extraordinary dullness in not having observed long ago those traits for which you are pleased, at this late hour, to offer me your congratulations. Before I sit down I should like to suggest we all drink the healths of the celebrated actress who is our hostess, of a bishop in the making—” signifying Quin; “a great novelist in the brewing, and a gentleman justly celebrated for the eloquence and ease with which he does nothing at all”—and she bowed to Lord Denton. “Capital!” he exclaimed. “I am evidently dining in very distinguished company tonight”; a little later, turning to Dick, he added: “How soon, may I ask, will this great novel be procurable by the general public?” Before Dick could reply, Hal intercepted gaily: “Well, I think the carrots and turnips have fallen out as to which takes precedence at a dinner-party: isn’t that so, Dick? And until the difficult question is settled, progress halts.” “Something of the kind,” agreed Dick promptly; “and there is also discord among the vegetable marrows and pumpkins on a similar question; but when the Baby Brigade has settled the views of the Trade Unions, and reversed the Osborne Judgment, we shall be able to proceed smoothly.” “It sounds a very extraordinary type of novel,” said Lorraine.