“She seems to be like the Salvation Army,” said Yeovil; “her noise reaches a class of people who wouldn’t trouble to read press notices.”

“Exactly,” said Cicely.  “Gorla gets quite good notices on the whole, doesn’t she?”

“The one that took my fancy most was the one in the Standard,” said Yeovil, picking up that paper from a table by his side and searching its columns for the notice in question. “’The wolves which appeared earlier in the evening’s entertainment are, the programme assures us, trained entirely by kindness.  It would have been a further kindness, at any rate to the audience, if some of the training, which the wolves doubtless do not appreciate at its proper value, had been expended on Miss Mustelford’s efforts at stage dancing.  We are assured, again on the authority of the programme, that the much-talked-of Suggestion Dances are the last word in Posture dancing.  The last word belongs by immemorial right to the sex which Miss Mustelford adorns, and it would be ungallant to seek to deprive her of her privilege.  As far as the educational aspect of her performance is concerned we must admit that the life of the fern remains to us a private life still.  Miss Mustelford has abandoned her own private life in an unavailing attempt to draw the fern into the gaze of publicity.  And so it was with her other suggestions.  They suggested many things, but nothing that was announced on the programme.  Chiefly they suggested one outstanding reflection, that stage-dancing is not like those advertised breakfast foods that can be served up after three minutes’ preparation.  Half a life-time, or rather half a youth-time is a much more satisfactory allowance.’”

“The Standard is prejudiced,” said Cicely; “some of the other papers are quite enthusiastic.  The Dawn gives her a column and a quarter of notice, nearly all of it complimentary.  It says the report of her fame as a dancer went before her, but that her performance last night caught it up and outstripped it.”

“I should not like to suggest that the Dawn is prejudiced,” said Yeovil, “but Shalem is a managing director on it, and one of its biggest shareholders.  Gorla’s dancing is an event of the social season, and Shalem is one of those most interested in keeping up the appearance, at any rate, of a London social season.  Besides, her debut gave the opportunity for an Imperial visit to the theatre—­the first appearance at a festive public function of the Conqueror among the conquered.  Apparently the experiment passed off well; Shalem has every reason to feel pleased with himself and well-disposed towards Gorla.  By the way,” added Yeovil, “talking of Gorla, I’m going down to Torywood one day next week.”

“To Torywood?” exclaimed Cicely.  The tone of her exclamation gave the impression that the announcement was not very acceptable to her.

“I promised the old lady that I would go and have a talk with her when I came back from my Siberian trip; she travelled in eastern Russia, you know, long before the Trans-Siberian railway was built, and she’s enormously interested in those parts.  In any case I should like to see her again.”