Meanwhile Jimmie was continuing to find life full of agreeable surprises. Lady FitzHubert was not the only lady to whom he was presented as the Mr. Padgate who was painting the princess's portrait. Mrs. Hardacre waived the personal grudge, and flourished him tactfully in the face of the county; and the county accepted him with unquestioning ingenuousness. He was pointed out as a notability, became the well-known portrait-painter, the celebrated artist, _the_ James Padgate, and thus achieved the bubble reputation. A guest who was surreptitiously reporting the garden-party for the local paper took eager notes of the personal appearance of the eminent man, and being a woman of the world, professed familiarity with his works. For the first time in his life he found himself a person of importance. The fact of his easy inclusion in the charmed circle cast a glamour over the crudities of the gala costume designed and furbished up with so much anxious thought by Aline, and people (who are kindly as a rule when their attention is diverted from the trivial) looked only at his face and were attracted to the man himself. Only Lady FitzHubert, who had private reasons for frigidity, treated him in an unbecoming manner. Other fair ladies smiled sweetly upon him, and spread abroad tales of his niceness, and thus helped in the launching of him as a fashionable portrait-painter upon the gay world. He had a brief interlude of talk with Norma by the refreshment-table. “I hope you are not being too much bored by all this,” she said in her society manner. “Bored!” he cried. “It's delightful.” “What about the hollow world where imagination doth not corrupt and enthusiasms do not break in and steal?” “It's a phantom dust-heap for inept epigrams. I don't believe it exists.” “You mustn't preach a gospel one day and give it the lie the next,” she said, half seriously; “for then I won't know what to believe. You don't seem to realise your responsibilities.” He echoed the last word in some surprise. Norma broke into a little nervous laugh. “You don't suppose you can go about without affecting your fellow-creatures? It is well that you don't know what a disturbing element you are.” She turned her head away and closed her eyes for a second or two, for the words she had overheard there by the hedge, last evening, rang in her ears. Perhaps it had been well for Jimmie if he had known. Before he had time to reply, she recovered herself, and added quickly: “I am glad you are enjoying yourself.” “How can I help it when every one is so kind to me?” he said brightly. “I came down here an obscure painter, a veritable _pictor ignotus_, and all your friends are as charming to me as if I were the President of the Royal Academy.” Connie Deering came up with a message for Norma and carried her off to the house. “How does Jimmie like being lionised?” she asked on the way. Norma repeated his last speech.