The effect of this contrast was not lost on two men who, at this point of the proceedings, strolled into the room, and whom the Oakleys came forward with some empressement to receive.
"I have brought you Lord Watergate," Gertrude heard one of them say, in a voice which she recognised at once, the sound of which filled her with a vague sense of discomfort.
"Darrell, by all that's wonderful!" said Frank, sotto voce, his eyes shining with enthusiasm; "there, with the light Vandyke beard—but you know him already."
"Hasn't he a Show Sunday of his own?" replied Gertrude, in a voice that implied that the wish was father to the thought.
"He has a gallery all to himself in Bond Street this season. I wonder if he will sing this afternoon."
"Mr. Darrell is a person of many accomplishments it seems."
"Oh, rather!" and Frank went off to offer a pleased and modest welcome to the illustrious guest.
Sidney Darrell, having succeeded in escaping from the Oakleys and their tea-table, made his way across the room, stopping here and there to exchange greetings with the people that he knew, and moving with that ostentatious air of lack of purpose which is so often assumed in society to mask a set and deliberate plan.
"How do you do, Miss Lorimer?" He stopped in front of Phyllis and held out his hand.
Phyllis's flower-face brightened at this recognition from the great man.