Sir William stood naively before the mirror and looked at his three stars on his black velvet dinner-jacket.
"Almost directly over the pit of my stomach," he said. "I hope that is not a decoration for my greedy appetite." And he laughed at the young women.
"I assure you it is in position, Sir," said Arthur. "Absolutely correct. I will read it out to you later."
"Aren't you satisfied? Aren't you a proud man! Isn't it wonderful?" said Lady Franks. "Why, what more could a man want from life? He could never expect so much."
"Yes, my dear. I am a proud man. Three countries have honoured me—" There was a little, breathless pause.
"And not more than they ought to have done," said Sybil.
"Well! Well! I shall have my head turned. Let me return to my own humble self. I am too much in the stars at the moment."
Sir William turned to Arthur to have his decorations removed. Aaron, standing in the background, felt the whole scene strange, childish, a little touching. And Lady Franks was so obviously trying to console her husband: to console the frail, excitable old man with his honours. But why console him? Did he need consolation? And did she? It was evident that only the hard-money woman in her put any price on the decorations.
Aaron came forward and examined the orders, one after the other. Just metal playthings of curious shiny silver and gilt and enamel. Heavy the British one—but only like some heavy buckle, a piece of metal merely when one turned it over. Somebody dropped the Italian cross, and there was a moment of horror. But the lump of metal took no hurt. Queer to see the things stowed in their boxes again. Aaron had always imagined these mysterious decorations as shining by nature on the breasts of heroes. Pinned-on pieces of metal were a considerable come-down.
The orders were put away, the party sat round the fire in the comfortable library, the men sipping more crème de menthe, since nothing else offered, and the couple of hours
