Publisher's Synopsis
A moment before the curtain rises, the Hon. Ernest Woolley drives up to the door ofLoam House in Mayfair. There is a happy smile on his pleasant, insignificant face, and thispresumably means that he is thinking of himself. He is too busy over nothing, this manabout town, to be always thinking of himself, but, on the other hand, he almost never thinksof any other person. Probably Ernest's great moment is when he wakes of a morning andrealises that he really is Ernest, for we must all wish to be that which is our ideal. We canconceive him springing out of bed light-heartedly and waiting for his man to do the rest. Heis dressed in excellent taste, with just the little bit more which shows that he is not withouta sense of humour: the dandiacal are often saved by carrying a smile at the whole thing intheir spats, let us say. Ernest left Cambridge the other day, a member of The Athenaeum(which he would be sorry to have you confound with a club in London of the same name).He is a bachelor, but not of arts, no mean epigrammatist (as you shall see), and a favouriteof the ladies. He is almost a celebrity in restaurants, where he dines frequently, returning tosup; and during this last year he has probably paid as much in them for the privilege ofhanding his hat to an attendant as the rent of a working-man's flat. He complains brightlythat he is hard up, and that if somebody or other at Westminster does not look out thecountry will go to the dogs. He is no fool. He has the shrewdness to float with the currentbecause it is a labour-saving process, but he has sufficient pluck to fight, if fight he must (abrief contest, for he would soon be toppled over). He has a light nature, which would enablehim to bob up cheerily in new conditions and return unaltered to the old ones. Hisselfishness is his most endearing quality. If he has his way he will spend his life like a cat inpushing his betters out of the soft places, and until he is old he will be fondled in theprocess.He gives his hat to one footman and his cane to another, and mounts the great staircaseunassisted and undirected. As a nephew of the house he need show no credentials even toCrichton, who is guarding a door above.