Some time had worn away, and she had repeated the substance of this speech in sundry forms to sundry persons, before Julian rejoined her. She had cast several rather preoccupied glances in his direction, when she became aware of him on the opposite side of the room, threading his way through the intervening groups in her direction, just as she was accosted by a rather distinguished-looking, elderly man.
“How do you do, Mrs. Romayne? They tell me that you have a grown-up son here, and I decline to believe it.”
He spoke in a pleasant, refined voice, marred, however, by all the affectation of the day, and with a tone about it as of a man absolutely secure of position and used to some amount of homage. He was a certain Lord Garstin, a distinguished figure in London society, rich, well-bred, and idle. He was troubled with no ideals. Fashionable women, with all the weaknesses which he knew quite well, were quite as high a type of woman as he thought possible; or, at least, desirable; and he had a considerable admiration for Mrs. Romayne as a very highly-finished and attractive specimen of the type he preferred.
She shook hands with him with a laugh, and a gathering together of her social resources, so to speak, which suggested that in her scheme of things he was a power whose suffrage was eminently desirable.
“It is true, notwithstanding,” she said brightly. “I am the proud possessor of a grown-up son, Lord Garstin; a very dear boy, I assure you. We are settling down in London together.”
“Is it possible?” was the answer, uttered with exaggerated incredulity. “And what are you going to do with him, may I ask?”
“He is reading for the bar——” began Mrs. Romayne; and then becoming aware that the subject of her words had by this time reached her side, she turned slightly, and laid her hand on Julian’s arm with a pretty gesture. “Here he is,” she said. “Let me introduce him. Julian, this is Lord Garstin. He has been kindly asking me about you.”
Julian knew all about Lord Garstin, and his tone and manner as he responded to his mother’s words were touched with a deference which made them, as his mother said to herself, “just what they ought to be.” The elder man looked him over with eyes which, as far as their vision extended, were as keen as eyes need be.
“A great many of your mother’s admirers will find it difficult to realise your existence,” he said pleasantly. “Though of course we have all heard of you. You are going to the bar, eh?”
Lord Garstin had a great following among smart young men, and the fact was rather a weakness of his. He liked to have young men about him; to be admired and imitated by them. His manner to Julian was characteristic of these tastes; free from condescension as superiority can only be when it is absolute and unassailable, and full of easy familiarity.