When she inveighed eloquently against the evils
of capitalism at drawing-room meetings and Fabian conferences she was
conscious of a comfortable feeling that the system, with all its
inequalities and iniquities, would probably last her time. It is one of
the consolations of middle-aged reformers that the good they inculcate
must live after them if it is to live at all.
On a certain spring evening, somewhere towards the dinner-hour, Sophie
sat tranquilly between her mirror and her maid, undergoing the process of
having her hair built into an elaborate reflection of the prevailing
fashion. She was hedged round with a great peace, the peace of one who
has attained a desired end with much effort and perseverance, and who has
found it still eminently desirable in its attainment. The Duke of Syria
had consented to come beneath her roof as a guest, was even now installed
beneath her roof, and would shortly be sitting at her dining-table. As a
good Socialist, Sophie disapproved of social distinctions, and derided
the idea of a princely caste, but if there were to be these artificial
gradations of rank and dignity she was pleased and anxious to have an
exalted specimen of an exalted order included in her house-party. She
was broad-minded enough to love the sinner while hating the sin--not that
she entertained any warm feeling of personal affection for the Duke of
Syria, who was a comparative stranger, but still, as Duke of Syria, he
was very, very welcome beneath her roof.
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