“I assure you it is in position, Sir,” said Arthur.  “Absolutely correct.  I will read it out to you later.”

“Aren’t you satisfied?  Aren’t you a proud man!  Isn’t it wonderful?” said Lady Franks.  “Why, what more could a man want from life?  He could never EXPECT so much.”

“Yes, my dear.  I AM a proud man.  Three countries have honoured me—­” There was a little, breathless pause.

“And not more than they ought to have done,” said Sybil.

“Well!  Well!  I shall have my head turned.  Let me return to my own humble self.  I am too much in the stars at the moment.”

Sir William turned to Arthur to have his decorations removed.  Aaron, standing in the background, felt the whole scene strange, childish, a little touching.  And Lady Franks was so obviously trying to console her husband:  to console the frail, excitable old man with his honours.  But why console him?  Did he need consolation?  And did she?  It was evident that only the hard-money woman in her put any price on the decorations.

Aaron came forward and examined the orders, one after the other.  Just metal playthings of curious shiny silver and gilt and enamel.  Heavy the British one—­but only like some heavy buckle, a piece of metal merely when one turned it over.  Somebody dropped the Italian cross, and there was a moment of horror.  But the lump of metal took no hurt.  Queer to see the things stowed in their boxes again.  Aaron had always imagined these mysterious decorations as shining by nature on the breasts of heroes.  Pinned-on pieces of metal were a considerable come-down.

The orders were put away, the party sat round the fire in the comfortable library, the men sipping more creme de menthe, since nothing else offered, and the couple of hours in front promising the tedium of small-talk of tedious people who had really nothing to say and no particular originality in saying it.

Aaron, however, had reckoned without his host.  Sir William sat upright in his chair, with all the determination of a frail old man who insists on being level with the young.  The new guest sat in a lower chair, smoking, that curious glimmer on his face which made him so attractive, and which only meant that he was looking on the whole scene from the outside, as it were, from beyond a fence.  Sir William came almost directly to the attack.

“And so, Mr. Sisson, you have no definite purpose in coming to Italy?”

“No, none,” said Aaron.  “I wanted to join Lilly.”

“But when you had joined him—?”

“Oh, nothing—­stay here a time, in this country, if I could earn my keep.”

“Ah!—­earn your keep?  So you hope to earn your keep here?  May I ask how?”

“By my flute.”

“Italy is a poor country.”

“I don’t want much.”

“You have a family to provide for.”

“They are provided for—­for a couple of years.”