at her house--would not a duke, if he were musical, go anywhere to hear
the greatest tenor in Europe? And would not all the greatest celebrities
go anywhere to meet a duke?

* * * * *

Next the two young Conistons were announced.

Miss Coniston was a thin, amiable, artistic girl, who did tooling in
leather, made her own dresses, recited, and had a pale, good-looking,
too well-dressed, disquieting young brother of twenty-two, who seemed to
be always going out when other people came in, but was rather useful in
society, being musical and very polite. The music that he chose
generally gave his audience a shock. Being so young, so pale, and so
contemporary, one expected him to sing thin, elusive music by Debussy,
Faure, or Ravel. He seemed never to have heard of these composers, but
sang instead threatening songs, such as, 'I'll sing thee Songs of
Araby!' or defiant, teetotal melodies, like 'Drink to Me only with thine
Eyes!' His voice was good, and louder and deeper than one would expect.
He accompanied himself and his sister everywhere. She, by the way, to
add to the interest about her, was said to be privately engaged to a
celebrity who was never there. Alice and Guy Coniston were orphans, and
lived alone in a tiny flat in Pelham Gardens. He had been reading for
the Bar, but when the war broke out he joined the New Army, and was
now in khaki.

* * * * *

But the _clou_ and great interest of the evening was the arrival of Sir
Tito Landi, that most popular of all Italian composers. With his white