Then, indeed, he would be king of the place, instead of
serving the interests of its queen.
He rose with a little sigh, and after adjusting the strip of flannel
over the keys, shut his piano and busied himself for a little with a
soft duster over his cabinet of bibelots which not even Foljambe was
allowed to touch. It was generally understood that he had inherited
them, though the inheritance had chiefly passed to him through the
medium of curiosity shops, and there were several pieces of
considerable value among them. There were a gold Louis XVI snuff box, a
miniature by Karl Huth, a silver toy porringer of the time of Queen
Anne, a piece of Bow china, an enamelled cigarette case by Faberge. But
tonight his handling of them was not so dainty and delicate as usual,
and he actually dropped the porringer on the floor as he was dusting
it, for his mind still occupied itself with the Guru and the practices
that led to permanent youth. How quick Lucia had been to snap him up
for her garden-party. Yet perhaps she would not get him, for he might
say he was not sent. But surely he would be sent to Georgie, whom he
knew, the moment he set eyes on him to have a clean white soul....
The clock struck eleven, and, as usual on warm nights Georgie opened
the glass door into his garden and drew in a breath of the night air.
There was a slip of moon in the sky which he most punctiliously
saluted, wondering (though he did not seriously believe in its
superstition) how Lucia could be so foolhardy as to cut the new moon.
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