Tony paused for dramatic effect, while he drained his goblet, and then made his announcement.

“Majesty is going to be present.  Informally and unofficially, but still present in the flesh.  A sort of casual dropping in, carefully heralded by unconfirmed rumour a week ahead.”

“Heavens!” exclaimed Cicely, in genuine excitement, “what a bold stroke.  Lady Shalem has worked that, I bet.  I suppose it will go down all right.”

“Trust Laurent to see to that,” said Tony, “he knows how to fill his house with the right sort of people, and he’s not the one to risk a fiasco.  He knows what he’s about.  I tell you, it’s going to be a big evening.”

“I say!” exclaimed Ronnie suddenly, “give a supper party here for Gorla on the night, and ask the Shalem woman and all her crowd.  It will be awful fun.”

Cicely caught at the suggestion with some enthusiasm.  She did not particularly care for Lady Shalem, but she thought it would be just as well to care for her as far as outward appearances went.

Grace, Lady Shalem, was a woman who had blossomed into sudden importance by constituting herself a sort of foster-mother to the fait accompli.  At a moment when London was denuded of most of its aforetime social leaders she had seen her opportunity, and made the most of it.  She had not contented herself with bowing to the inevitable, she had stretched out her hand to it, and forced herself to smile graciously at it, and her polite attentions had been reciprocated.  Lady Shalem, without being a beauty or a wit, or a grand lady in the traditional sense of the word, was in a fair way to becoming a power in the land; others, more capable and with stronger claims to social recognition, would doubtless overshadow her and displace her in due course, but for the moment she was a person whose good graces counted for something, and Cicely was quite alive to the advantage of being in those good graces.

“It would be rather fun,” she said, running over in her mind the possibilities of the suggested supper-party.

“It would be jolly useful,” put in Ronnie eagerly; “you could get all sorts of interesting people together, and it would be an excellent advertisement for Gorla.”

Ronnie approved of supper-parties on principle, but he was also thinking of the advantage which might accrue to the drawing-room concert which Cicely had projected (with himself as the chief performer), if he could be brought into contact with a wider circle of music patrons.

“I know it would be useful,” said Cicely, “it would be almost historical; there’s no knowing who might not come to it—­and things are dreadfully slack in the entertaining line just now.”

The ambitious note in her character was making itself felt at that moment.

“Let’s go down to the library, and work out a list of people to invite,” said Ronnie.

A servant entered the room and made a brief announcement.