Landsend was a fast young man of no particular intellect. But he was kind, popular, and not without a certain personal charm. He could do things that more responsible and important people couldn't do.
As he saw the hero of the occasion and the night come in with Marjorie Poole, an inspiration came to the rackety young fellow.
He jumped up from his chair and began to clap loudly.
There was a moment's dead silence. Everybody stopped talking, the clink and clatter of the meal was still.
Then the little Duchess of Perth—she was Miss Mamie Q. Oildervan, of New York—took Landsend up. She began to clap too. As she had three hundred thousand a year, was young, cheeky and delightful, she was a leader of society at this moment.
Every one followed suit. There was a full-handed thunder of applause.
Lord Landsend lifted a glass of champagne high in the air.
"Here's to the wizard of the day!" he shouted merrily. "Here's to the conqueror of thought!"
There was another second of silence. During it, the Duke of Perth, a boy fresh from Oxford, caught the infection of the moment. He raised his glass also—"And to Miss Poole too!" he said.
People who had spent years in London society said that they had never experienced anything like it. A scene of wild excitement began. Staid and ordinary people forgot convention and restraint. There was a high and jocund chorus of congratulation and applause. The painted roof of the supper-room rang with it.