Grimshaw became professional.
“Doesn’t it? You must let me go over you to-night. And, if you’ll back me and Miss Chandos, I’m hanged if I’ll funk being your partner.”
“Thank you, my boy, thank you.” He added slyly: “I must thank little Cicely, too.”
IV
Lady Selina swept in.
At once Grimshaw amended mistaken conceptions of her. He understood swiftly that such a woman might inspire devotion in such a man as Pawley. Graciousness, that priceless asset, shone luminously about her. Conviction that she was exactly what she appeared to be, a lady of quality, must—so Grimshaw decided—impose itself subtly upon everybody coming in contact with her. At a distance one might criticise; in her presence the homage she exacted with such sublime unconsciousness had to be paid—tribute to Cæsar, whether copper or gold. The young man noted the elegance of her gown, the delightful lines of draperies that disdained fashion. He had expected formality, a cold courtesy, the more chilling because good breeding imposed it. But Lady Selina advanced, holding out two small hands.
“I am delighted to meet Old Grimmer.”
He said confusedly:
“Who is at your service.”
Presently they were seated. Grimshaw found himself close to Lady Selina, so close that he could detect the faint fragrance of orris-root, the only perfume she used.