"He had his own private theatre," Joan explained, "where Wagner gave his
operas. And the King was the sole audience."

"I should have hated that," he said, "if I had been Wagner."

He looked at her, and a flush passed over his boyish face.

"All right," he said, "if it had been a queen."

Joan found herself tracing patterns with her spoon upon the tablecloth.
"But you have won now," she said, still absorbed apparently with her
drawing, "you are going to get your chance."

He gave a short laugh. "A trick," he said, "to weaken me. They think to
shave my locks; show me to the people bound by their red tape. To put it
another way, a rat among the terriers."

Joan laughed. "You don't somehow suggest the rat," she said: "rather
another sort of beast."

"What do you advise me?" he asked. "I haven't decided yet."

They were speaking in whispered tones. Through the open doors they could
see into the other room. Mrs. Phillips, under Airlie's instructions, was
venturing upon a cigarette.

"To accept," she answered. "They won't influence you--the terriers, as
you call them. You are too strong. It is you who will sway them. It
isn't as if you were a mere agitator. Take this opportunity of showing