It was one of those beautiful sunny days everyone always remembers in the summer when the war began. Black was the fashionable color for women. Heads of state like Kaiser Wilhem of Germany were vacationing, as July lazily unrolled itself in London like a flowery carpet, while yachts tugged at their moorings on the Isle of Wight. We were staying at Brown's Hotel, the only place for anybody that was Anybody from New York City, New York stayed, the place where Theodore Roosevelt held his wedding reception. "Amanda, come look at this!" commanded my cousin Becky, with excitement in her voice. 'Auditions will be held today for The Lady of High Street, the latest production in the oeuvre of the Hon. Brandon Whitefield, elder son of Rodger Viscount Stroplea and Viscountess Huldah Stroplea, at the Apollo Theatre at one o'clock this afternoon.' "Wouldn't it be fascinating to meet such a fellow!" I knew what she meant. For the peerage, theatre was declasée.