“Many thanks. I have your promise. He will be a charming addition, and I shall be delighted to see him.”
Tom burst out laughing.
“Do you know I’m delighted to see you, heretic or no heretic. We won’t talk shop any more. Miss Wrexham is coming to dinner to-night. You remember her, don’t you?”
“Very well. She flattered me about my statuette. I never forget any one who flatters me.”
“You flattered yourself, you mean. She was fonder of the Parthenon.”
“I am not jealous of the Parthenon,” said Manvers; “she may flirt with the whole Acropolis if she likes. But you’ll have to let me go at ten. Wallingthorpe has a gathering. He is very refreshing.”
“He is a social Narcissus,” said Tom. “It is so silly to be Narcissus.”
“Not if other people agree with you.”
“But nobody admires Wallingthorpe as much as he admires himself.”
“No; but he never ceases to hope that they soon will. Hope springs eternal, you know. He is very sanguine. Whether they will or not has nothing to do with the question; the only point is whether he sincerely believes they will, and he certainly does that.”