Flossie, who had been hovering impatient, broke in.

“Oh, don’t you believe her,” she advised Mr. Halliday.  “She loves you still.  She’s only teasing you.  This is Joan.”

She introduced her.  Miss Tolley bowed; and allowed herself to be drawn away by a lank-haired young man who had likewise been waiting for an opening.  He represented the Uplift Film Association of Chicago, and was wishful to know if Miss Tolley would consent to altering the last chapter and so providing “Running Waters” with a happy ending.  He pointed out the hopelessness of it in its present form, for film purposes.

The discussion was brief.  “Then I’ll send your agent the contract to-morrow,” Joan overheard him say a minute later.

Mr. Sam Halliday she liked at once.  He was a clean-shaven, square-jawed young man, with quiet eyes and a pleasant voice.

“Try and find me brainy,” he whispered to her, as soon as Flossie was out of earshot.  “Talk to me about China.  I’m quite intelligent on China.”

They both laughed, and then shot a guilty glance in Flossie’s direction.

“Do the women really crush their feet?” asked Joan.

“Yes,” he answered.  “All those who have no use for them.  About one per cent. of the population.  To listen to Miss Tolley you would think that half the women wanted a new husband every ten years.  It’s always the one per cent. that get themselves talked about.  The other ninety-nine are too busy.”

“You are young for a philosopher,” said Joan.

He laughed.  “I told you I’d be all right if you started me on China,” he said.

“Why are you marrying.  Flossie?” Joan asked him.  She thought his point of view would be interesting.

“Not sure I am yet,” he answered with a grin.  “It depends upon how I get through this evening.”  He glanced round the room.  “Have I got to pass all this crowd, I wonder?” he added.

Joan’s eyes followed.  It was certainly an odd collection.  Flossie, in her hunt for brains, had issued her invitations broadcast; and her fate had been that of the Charity concert.  Not all the stars upon whom she had most depended had turned up.  On the other hand not a single freak had failed her.  At the moment, the centre of the room was occupied by a gentleman and two ladies in classical drapery.  They were holding hands in an attitude suggestive of a bas-relief.  Joan remembered them, having seen them on one or two occasions wandering in the King’s Road, Chelsea; still maintaining, as far as the traffic would allow, the bas-relief suggestion; and generally surrounded by a crowd of children, ever hopeful that at the next corner they would stop and do something really interesting.  They belonged to a society whose object was to lure the London public by the force of example towards the adoption of the early Greek fashions and the simpler Greek attitudes.  A friend of Flossie’s