is over, as both my friend and myself have arranged to be presented.”
“Oh—ah—yes!—er—yes! That is always advisable. And it’s not half such a troublesome business as a Drawing-room is for the ladies. It’s soon over,—and low bodices are not de rigeur—ha—ha—ha! Who is your presenter?”
I named a distinguished personage, closely connected with the Court, and the Earl nodded.
“A very good man,—you could not have a better”—he said complacently—“And this book of yours,—when does it come out?”
“Next week.”
“We must get it,—we must certainly get it,”—said Lord Elton, assuming interest,—“Sybil, you must put it down on your library list.”
She assented, though, as I thought a trifle indifferently.
“On the contrary you must allow me to present it to you;” I said—“It will be a pleasure to me which I hope you will not deny.”
“You are very kind,”—she answered, lifting her beautiful eyes to mine as she spoke—“But the librarian at Mudie’s is sure to send it—he knows I read everything. Though I confess I never buy any books except those by Mavis Clare.”
Again that woman’s name! I felt annoyed, but took care not to show my annoyance.