Margery gave him his black Homburg hat and opened the door for Julia and Michael to go out.
As they entered the office the young man Julia had noticed turned round and stood up.
‘I should like to introduce you to Miss Lambert,’ said Michael.
Then with the air of an ambassador presenting an attache to the sovereign of the court to which he is accredited:
‘This is the gentleman who is good enough to put some order into the mess we make of our accounts.’
The young man went scarlet.
He smiled stiffly in answer to Julia’s warm, ready smile and she felt the palm of his hand wet with sweat when she cordially grasped it.
His confusion was touching.
That was how people had felt when they were presented to Sarah Siddons.
She thought that she had not been very gracious to Michael when he had proposed asking the boy to luncheon.
She looked straight into his eyes. Her own were large, of a very dark brown, and starry.
It was no effort to her, it was as instinctive as brushing away a fly that was buzzing round her, to suggest now a faintly amused, friendly tenderness.
‘I wonder if we could persuade you to come and eat a chop with us.
Michael will drive you back after lunch.’
The young man blushed again and his adam’s apple moved in his thin neck.
‘It’s awfully kind of you.’
He gave his clothes a troubled look.
‘I’m absolutely filthy.’
‘You can have a wash and brush up when we get home.’
The car was waiting for them at the stage door, a long car in black and chromium, upholstered in silver leather, and with Michael’s crest discreetly emblazoned on the doors.
Julia got in.
‘Come and sit with me.
Michael is going to drive.’
They lived in Stanhope Place, and when they arrived Julia told the butler to show the young man where he could wash his hands.
She went up to the drawing-room.
She was painting her lips when Michael joined her.
‘I’ve told him to come up as soon as he’s ready.’
‘By the way, what’s his name?’
‘I haven’t a notion.’
‘Darling, we must know.
I’ll ask him to write in our book.’
‘Damn it, he’s not important enough for that.’
Michael asked only very distinguished people to write in their book.
‘We shall never see him again.’
At that moment the young man appeared.
In the car Julia had done all she could to put him at his ease, but he was still very shy.
The cocktails were waiting and Michael poured them out.
Julia took a cigarette and the young man struck a match for her, but his hand was trembling so much that she thought he would never be able to hold the light near enough to her cigarette, so she took his hand and held it.
‘Poor lamb,’ she thought, ‘I suppose this is the most wonderful moment in his whole life.
What fun it’ll be for him when he tells his people.
I expect he’ll be a blasted little hero in his office.’
Julia talked very differently to herself and to other people: when she talked to herself her language was racy.
She inhaled the first whiff of her cigarette with delight.
It was really rather wonderful, when you came to think of it, that just to have lunch with her and talk to her for three quarters of an hour, perhaps, could make a man quite important in his own scrubby little circle.
The young man forced himself to make a remark.
‘What a stunning room this is.’
She gave him the quick, delightful smile, with a slight lift of her fine eyebrows, which he must often have seen her give on the stage.
‘I’m so glad you like it.’ Her voice was rather low and ever so slightly hoarse.
You would have thought his observation had taken a weight off her mind.
‘We think in the family that Michael has such perfect taste.’