Ettle everything round a dinner-table." She was sitting in front of the
fire in a high-backed chair. She never cared to loll, and the shaded
light from the electric sconces upon the mantelpiece illumined her. "If
the world were properly stage-managed, that's what you ought to be," he
said, "the wife of a Prime Minister. I can see you giving such an
excellent performance." "I must talk to Mary," he added, "see if we
can't get you off on some promising young Under Secretary." "Don't give
me ideas above my station," laughed Joan. "I'm a journalist." "That's
the pity of it," he said. "You're wasting the most important thing about
you, your personality. You would do more good in a drawing- room,
influencing the rulers, than you will ever do hiding behind a pen. It
was the drawing-room that made the French Revolution." The firelight
played about her hair. "I suppose every woman dreams of reviving the old
French Salon," she answered. "They must have been gloriously
interesting." He was leaning forward with clasped hands. "Why shouldn't
she?" he said. "The reason that our drawing-rooms have ceased to lead is
that our beautiful women are generally frivolous and our clever women
unfeminine. What we are waiting for is an English Madame Roland." Joan
laughed. "Perhaps I shall some day," she answered. He insisted on seeing
her as far as the bus. It was a soft, mild night; and they walked round
the Circle to Gloucester Gate. He thought there would be more room in
the buses at that point. "I wish you would come oftener," he said. "Mary
has taken such a liking to you. If you care to meet people, we can
always whip up somebody of interest." She promised that she would. She
always felt curiously at home with the Greysons. They were passing the
long sweep of Chester Terrace. "I like this neighbourhood with its early
Victorian atmosphere," she said. "It always makes me feel quiet and
good. I don't know why." "I like the houses, too," he said. "There's a
character about them. You don't often find such fine drawing-rooms in
London." "Don't forget your promise," he reminded her, when they parted.
"I shall tell Mary she may write to you." She met Carleton by chance a
day or two later, as she was entering the office. "I want to see you,"
he said; and took her up with him into his room. "We must stir the
people up about this food business," he said, plunging at once into his
subject. "Phillips is quite right. It
