rnest gentleman like Colonel Winwood the tempting emendations
of typescript would not do. In what Miss Winwood called his subtle
Italian way, he induced his patron to discuss the speeches before the
process of composition. These discussions, involving the swift rapier
play of intelligences, Colonel Winwood enjoyed. They stimulated him
magically. He sat down and wrote his speeches, delightfully unconscious
of what in them was Paul and what was himself; and when he delivered
them he was proud of the impression he had made upon the House.

And so, as the years passed, Paul gained influence not only in the
little circle of Drane's Court and Portland Place, but also in the
outer world. He was a young man of some note. His name appeared
occasionally in the newspapers, both in connection with the Winwood
charities and with the political machine of the Unionist party. He was
welcomed at London dinner tables and in country houses. He was a young
man who would go far. For the rest, he had learned to ride and shoot,
and not to make mistakes about the genealogical relationships of
important families. He had travelled about Europe, sometimes with the
Winwoods, sometimes by himself. He was a young man of cultivation and
accomplishment.

On this fifth anniversary he sat gazing unseeingly at the autumn rack,
the Princess's letter in his band, and letting his thoughts wander down
the years. He marvelled how valiantly the stars in their courses had
fought for him. Even against recognition his life was charmed. Once,
indeed, he met at the house in Portland Place a painter to whom he had
posed. The painter looked at him keenly.

"Surely we have met before?"

"We have," said Paul with daring frankness. "I remember it gratefully.
But if you would forget it I should be still more grateful."

The painter shook hands with him and smiled. "You may be sure I haven't
the least idea what you're talking about."

As for Theatreland, the lower walks in the profession to which Paul had
belonged do not cross the paths of high political society. It lay
behind him far and forgotten. His position was secure. Here and there
an anxious mother may have been worried as to his precise antecedents;
but Paul was too astute to give mothers over-much cause for anxiety. He
lived under the fascination of the Great Game. When he came into his
kingdom he could choose; not before. His destiny was drawing him nearer
and nearer to it, he thought, with slow and irres