[_Crossing to the fireplace, rubbing his hands, as_ JOHN _retires to the dining-room._] Oh, my dear Phil, this dreadful climate after the sunshine of the Lago Maggiore!

PHILIP.

[_Walking about and spouting, in high spirits._] "Italia! O Italia!

thou who hast the fatal gift of beauty----!"

ROOPE.

Sir Loftus and Lady Glazebrook were moving on to Rome, or I really believe I could have endured another month at their villa, bores as they are, dear kind souls! [_Looking towards the dining-room, where_ JOHN _and the waiter are now placing a handsome centre-piece of flowers upon the round table._] Hallo! A dinner-party, Phil?

PHILIP.

Dinner-party? A banquet!

ROOPE.

To celebrate the success of the book?

PHILIP.

That and something more. This festival, sir, of the preparations for which you are a privileged spectator--[_shouting to_ JOHN] shut those doors, John----

JOHN.

Yessir.

PHILIP.

[_Sitting in the chair on the left of the smoking-table as_ JOHN _closes the big doors._] This festival, my dear Robbie--[_glancing over his shoulder to a.s.sure himself that the doors are closed_] this festival also celebrates my formal engagement to Madame de Chaumie.

ROOPE.

[_Triumphantly._] Aha!

PHILIP.

[_Taking a cigarette from the box at his side._] Ottoline and I are to be married soon after Christmas. The civilized world is to be startled by the announcement on Monday.

ROOPE.

[_Advancing._] My dear chap, I've never heard anything that has given me greater pleasure. [PHILIP _offers_ ROOPE _the cigarette-box._] No, I won't smoke. [_Seating himself upon the settee on the right._] When was it settled?

PHILIP.

[_Lighting his cigarette._] The day before yesterday. I got t.i.tterton to write me a letter--t.i.tterton, my publisher--certifying to the enormous sales of the book, and sent it on to Sir Randle Filson.

Nothing like doc.u.mentary evidence, Robbie. [_Leaning back in his chair with outstretched legs and exhaling a wreath of tobacco-smoke._]

Twenty-five thousand copies, my boy, up to date, and still going strong.

ROOPE.

Wonderful.

PHILIP.

Phew! The critics treated me generously enough, but it hung fire d.a.m.nably at first. At one particularly h.e.l.lish moment I could have sworn it wouldn't do more than my usual fifteen or eighteen hundred, and I cursed myself for having been such a besotted fool as to pin my faith to it. [_Sitting upright._] And then, suddenly, a rush--a tremendous rush! Twenty-four thousand went off in less than six weeks.

Almost uncanny, eh? [_Touching the tobacco-jar._] Oh, lord, sometimes I think I've been putting opium into my pipe instead of this innocent baccy, and that I shall wake up to the necessity of counting my pence again and apologizing to John for being in arrear with his wages!

ROOPE.

And t.i.tterton's letter brought the Filsons round?

PHILIP.

[_Nodding._] Brought 'em round; and I must say they've accomplished the change of att.i.tude most graciously.

ROOPE.

[_Oracularly._] Graciously or grudgingly, they couldn't help themselves, dear excellent friend. As you had pledged yourself in effect to resign the lady if your book was a failure, it follows that they were bound to clasp you to their bosoms if it succeeded. I don't want to detract from the amiability of the Filsons for an instant----

PHILIP.

Anyhow, their opposition is at an end, and all is rosy. [_Rising and pacing the room._] Master Bertram is a trifle glum and stand-offish perhaps, but Sir Randle--! Ha, ha, ha! Sir Randle has taken Literature under his wing, Robbie, from Chaucer to Kipling, in the person of his prospective son-in-law. You'd imagine, to listen to him, that to establish ties of relationship with a literary man has been his chief aim in life.

ROOPE.

[_Jerking his head in the direction of the dining-room._] And this is to be a family gathering----?

PHILIP.

The first in the altered circ.u.mstances. I proposed a feast at a smart restaurant, but Sir Randle preferred the atmosphere which has conduced, as he puts it, to the creation of so many of my brilliant compositions.

[_Behind the smoking-table, dropping the end of his cigarette into the ash-tray--gaily._] Robbie, I've had a magnificent suit of joy-rags made for the occasion!

ROOPE.

[_Earnestly._] Good! I rejoice to hear it, dear excellent friend, and I hope it portends a wholesale order to your tailor and your intention to show yourself in society again freely. [_With a laugh,_ PHILIP _goes to the fireplace and stands looking into the fire._] Begin leaving your cards at once. No more sulking in your tent! [_Rising and crossing to the other side of the room._] You have _arrived_, my dear chap; I read your name in two papers in my cabin yesterday. [_Marching up and down._] Your foot is on the ladder; you bid fair to become a celebrity, if you are not one already; and your approaching marriage sheds additional l.u.s.tre on you. I envy you, Phil; I do, positively.

PHILIP.

[_Facing_ ROOPE.] Oh, of course, I shall be seen about with Ottoline during our engagement. Afterwards----

ROOPE.

[_Halting._] Afterwards----?

PHILIP.

Everything will depend on my wife--[_relishing the word_] my _wife_.

Ottoline has rather lost her taste for Society with a capital S, remember.