, actresses,
dancers, sculptors, writers, and painters, who were never received in
any sort of good society on the Continent or in America. London's
notorious carelessness in such matters was led gaily by their mother and
by them. Their house in Park Lane was popularly known as "the ragbag,"
and they were perpetually under the spell of some rage of the moment.
Now they were twin Bacchantes, influenced by a Siberian dancer at the
Palace; now curiously Eastern, captured by a Nautch girl whom they had
come to know in Paris. For a time they were Japanese, when the
Criterion opened its doors to a passionate doll from Yokohama, who
became their bosom friend. Italy touched them with the lovely hands of
La Divina Carlotta, our lady of tears from a slum of Naples. The
Sicilians turned them to fire and the Swedish singers to snow. At this
moment Margot was inclined to be classic, caught by a plastic poseuse
from Athens, who, attired solely in gold-leaf, was giving exhibitions at
the Hippodrome to the despair of Mrs. Grundy. And Kit was waiting for a
new lead and marking time in the newest creations from Paris.

"Charmian, come and sit down for just a moment! Run away and play, Lord
Mark!"

"With whom?" said a handsome boy plaintively.

"With Jenny Smythe, with Lady Dolly, anyone who can play pretty. Come
back in ten minutes and I'll be bothered with you again--perhaps. Let's
sit here, Charmian. Wasn't the _Fille_ too perfect? But the Bach was
like the hewing of wood and the drawing of water. Max shouldn't have
allowed it. What do you think of my gold gown?"

"It's lovely!"

"The Greeks knew everything and we know nothing. This dress hangs in
such a calm way that one can't be anything but classic in it. Since I've
known the Persephone I've learnt how to live. You must go to the
Hippodrome. But what's all this about your going yachting with the
Adelaide and an extraordinary Cornish genius? What's the matter?"

The last words came out in a suddenly business-like and almost self-made
voice, and Margot's deep eyes, full hitherto of a conscious calm,
supposed to be Greek, abruptly darted questioning fires which might have
sprung from a modern hussy.

"D'you like him so much?" continued Margot, before Charmian had time to
answer.

"You're making a great mistake," said Charmian, with airy dignity. "I
was only surprised to hear that Claude Heath was coming. I didn't know
it. I understood he had refused to come. He always refuses