as even appealing. Nor for all my anger and vexation could I deny
the real feeling in his eyes as he looked at her; he was admiring; he
was affectionate; nay more, he seemed to be giving her his thanks.

She was very silent all the way home, answering only by a "yes" or a
"no" the few remarks I ventured to make. On her own account she made
only one--as the result of a long reverie. "It'll all blow over some
day," she said.

If it was her only observation, at least it was a characteristic one.
Jenny had a great belief in things "blowing over"--a belief that
inspired and explained much of her diplomacy. What seemed sometimes in
retrospect to have been far-sighted scheming or elaborate cunning had
been in reality no more than waiting for a thing to "blow over"--holding
the balance, maintaining an artificial equilibrium by a number of clever
manipulations, until things should right themselves and gain, or regain,
a proper and natural basis. The best opinion I could form of her present
proceedings was that they rested on some such idea. For the moment she
banned Octon under the pressure of her other neighbors; but in time the
memory of his offenses would grow dimmer--and in time also her own
position and power would be more firmly established. Then he could come
back. She might have persuaded him into good humor by such a plea as
that. If it were so, I thought that she had misled him and perhaps
deceived herself. People have long memories for social offenses.
And--one could not help asking the question--what of Fillingford? Where
was he to fit in, what part was he to play? Was a millennium to come
when he was to lie down on Jenny's hearthrug side by side with Octon?

There was a lady too many at dinner--a man short! Jenny could have
avoided this blot on her arrangements by eliminating Chat--and poor Chat
was quite accustomed to being eliminated. But she chose not to adopt
this course. I rather think that she liked to feel herself a bit of a
martyr in the matter, but possibly she was also minded to make a little
demonstration of her submission, to let them guess that Octon had been
coming and that she had acted on their orders with merciless
promptitude. In other respects the party was one of her most successful.
Great as was the strain which she had been through in the afternoon, she
herself was gay and sparkling. And how they petted her! Lady Aspenick
might naturally have looked to be the heroine of the occasion--nor had