"
He _was_ handsome, the Duchess was right. And he was beautifully
dressed. And he would play for her guests after dinner.
Lady Kingsmead held out her jewelled hand.
"I am very glad that it happened," she said sweetly. "Theo's a dear
boy, and seems to make my little girl very happy."
"Yes, they seem happy. Ah--is this Tommy?"
It was. A spick-and-span Tommy, with very wet hair and a nervous smile;
a Tommy with cold hands and a curious twitching behind his knees. For he
had come to Olympus to see a god.
Joyselle held out his big, strong hand and Tommy's disappeared in it.
Thus, sometimes, are friendships made.
"I say--you _can_ play," stammered the boy. "I--it is glorious."
"You love music, Brigitte says."
"Don't I just! She says you'll play for me some time."
Tommy's small, greenish eyes were wet with irrepressible tears of
adoration.
Joyselle rose. "Come with me to my room now, Tommy, and I will play for
you. _Vous permettez, madame?_"
Lady Kingsmead bowed graciously, but when the door closed, frowned with
disgust, and putting Maeterlinck on the table, drew Claudine from under
an embroidered pillow and began to read.
Tommy, treading on air, accompanied Joyselle to his room, and sitting on
the floor as the easiest place in which to contain almost unbearable
rapture, listened.
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